In his dealing with the House of Burgesses, the Governor sacrificed any influence he had built up, by his disregard of their privileges and his violent abuse of individual members and of the body as a whole. His agent in London, John Thrale, saw no reason why the Burgesses should be angered at him for proposing a tax bill. If Mr. Thrale knew how they disliked those levy bills which arose outside the House, he would change his mind, Philip Ludwell pointed out.[13] In one of his fits of temper Nicholson threatened to cut the Speaker's throat.[14]
In the General Court Nicholson made free use of threats and promises to secure verdicts to his liking. Robert Beverley said it was his constant practice to browbeat and vilify both lawyers and their clients. Two cases, especially, he managed with such violence "that there was not one person in court, favorite or foe, but thought it very hard and unjust dealing." One case had to be postponed several times because as soon as it came up he flew into such a rage that the court had to adjourn.[15]
Nicholson threw one suit out of court without even consulting the other Judges. In another he pleaded "from the bench more like a party than a judge and flew into great heats and passions." In the case of Swan versus Wilson, he grossly abused Swan's attorney. When the verdict went for Swan, Wilson's attorney said there had been an error in form. To this Harrison replied that the form had been in keeping with Virginia practice. Instantly Nicholson turned on him, thundering out: "Sir, you are the Queen's counsel and pretend to set up a precedent in Virginia contrary to the practice in England. You shall not impose upon me with your tricks and equivocations."[16] On another occasion he became so enraged against Mr. Bartholomew Fowler, one of the attorneys, "a very sickly, weak man," that he seized him by the collar and shook him, swearing that his commands must be obeyed without hesitation or reserve.[17]
If we may believe Robert Beverley, the Governor made a habit of packing the grand jury, in order to get flattering addresses from them. He would pick out men whom he knew he could influence, send for them to come to Williamsburg, and order the sheriff to put them on the jury in place of others of whom he was doubtful. Beverley was talking with a man whom the sheriff had summoned and then had discharged, when the sheriff happened to pass. So the man stopped him to ask why he had done it. He replied that the Governor had ordered him to do it. When the jury he had selected for the purpose gave him the address he wanted, he showered them with favors. To the foreman he gave a naval officer's place, others he "favored by barefaced methods" in cases at law in which they were concerned, still others had sheriff's places.[18]
Nicholson's greatest blunder was to antagonize the Council. Its members, representing the Virginia aristocracy, and having influential friends at Court, were not the men to sit quietly and see their hard-earned privileges taken from them. Is the Council so mean spirited as to let a Governor do all the ill things he pleases in their names, and all the while using them like slaves, not suffering them to have any opinion of their own? Philip Ludwell asked. "Arbitrary power is grown to a high pitch among us. Hectoring is the only court language. Our laws and liberties openly trampled upon."[19]
Nicholson should have known that he was in for a fight to the finish when he bearded the Councillors. Prominent among them was the pugnacious Commissary James Blair. Robert Carter, of Corotoman, had been a Burgess at twenty-eight, and had twice been Speaker. A man of great energy, shrewd, and dominating he was dubbed "King Carter." Benjamin Harrison had represented Surry in the House of Burgesses, was a Visitor of the College of William and Mary, was commander of the Surry militia. Philip Ludwell, Jr., Page, Custis, Bassett, Duke, and the others were all men of wealth and influence.
The first open breach between these men and Nicholson came when he began to make appointments to office without consulting them. They were outraged when he removed their friends from lucrative jobs to make room for his own favorites. They protested the issuing of warrants on the revenue and the giving of patents to land without their consent. It was almost an insult for him to prorogue the Assembly on his own authority and without their knowledge.
Later Nicholson put the blame on the Councillors themselves for his failure to get along with them. They hated him, he said, because he would not be guided and governed by them, and turn secretaries, auditors, collectors, naval officers, and others out of their places and put them and their friends in, and would not let them do what they pleased.[20]
The Council meetings became stormy, with the Councillors protesting to the Governor and the Governor flying into a rage. When the sessions were held in the Wren Building at the college prior to the completing of the new Capitol, passersby could hear Nicholson storming "as loud as he could extend his voice." If any member dared to oppose him in any measure he was sure to bring down on himself a volley of insults.
The Councillors were liable to abuse even when the Council was not in session. One day when John Lightfoot was in Williamsburg, he called on the Governor. He had not been in his presence fifteen minutes before Nicholson began to storm at him, calling him a rogue, a rascal, and a villain. "You have sided with that damned Scotch parson, Blair, and by God, sir, you have shipped yourself in a leaky vessel.... You shall be turned out of the Council." Then he flew out against the rest of the Council, saying there was not one of them who was not a rogue and a coward, who did not dare look a man in the face.[21]