Tea Sets and Tyranny. Steven C. Bullock
become more insistent in England in the wake of seventeenth-century turmoil. Blair’s resistance to Nicholson, furthermore, was deeply intertwined with another, more recent development, the rise of the ideals of politeness.
Figure 3. The original building of the College of William and Mary. As the caption to this 1705 drawing by a French visitor notes, Francis Nicholson lived in this building as well, a setting that probably did not help the relationship between the governor and college president Blair. Franz Ludwig Michel, “Reisebeschreibung nach Amerika,” Burgerbibliothek Bern, Mss.h.h.X.152, p.
The growth of both these changes in America, however, was not simply an echo of far-off English experiences. Further changes within the colonies both increased Nicholson’s frustrations and made his rages more troubling. America first suffered from a widespread failure of colonial governance in these years, difficulties created by governors and other officials seeking to deal with increased imperial expectations. At the same time, a newly confident group of elites in many colonies sought greater power for themselves and their provinces, often seeing imperial governors and governance as primary impediments to their aspirations. Together these political issues and social changes helped provide some of the most important settings for the development of the politics of politeness in America.
Nicholson’s supporters sometimes claimed that his problematic behavior resulted from his unsuccessful love affair. The governor’s harshness may well have had psychological origins. But examining these fits and their historical contexts provides a broader understanding of his actions. Nicholson’s rages were at once expressions of his views about authority; symptoms of increasing tensions between the empire and elites; and stimulus for emerging Virginia leaders to rethink the connections between power and personal behavior by drawing on the ideals of politeness they found so lacking in Nicholson’s outrageous behavior.
A Terror to Evil Doers
On July 9, 1698, Maryland governor Francis Nicholson faced down one of his most persistent opponents. Gerard Slye had been brought before the governor and his council on charges that he had libeled the governor and plotted against the government. Slye had allied with his stepfather John Coode, a perpetual malcontent who had overthrown the Calvert proprietors almost ten years before and now had set his sights on Nicholson. Slye struck an aggressive tone. With his hands on his hips in what the council minutes considered “a proud Scornful manner,” he informed the governor that he expected to be treated like a gentleman. Slye then sat down across from Nicholson without leave, presenting himself as the governor’s equal. Nicholson disregarded the affront, but could not contain himself when the prisoner addressed him as “Mister” rather than as his “Excellency.” The governor ordered Slye to stand. Did he, the governor demanded, “kn[o]w him to be his most Sacred Majestys Governor of this Province”? Faced to choose between submission and actual rebellion, Slye pulled back, fully acknowledging Nicholson’s authority.9
Nicholson’s combative stance served him well. Two days of questioning and browbeating forced the prisoner to admit his attacks on Nicholson. A more formal court prosecution, again overseen by the governor, followed. A weary Slye finally begged Nicholson’s pardon. Whereas before he had sat down with the governor, he now figuratively threw himself at Nicholson’s feet. “Your Excellencys humble Petitioner from the Bottom of his heart is sorry,” he wrote, adding that the governor’s “care prudence diligence & Circumspection may Justly deserve the affections & prayers of your Excellencys long Continuance in the Government.” Presumably prompted by Nicholson, he also included a separate statement that his offenses were not just against the governor but the government as well. Presenting the petition to the council, Nicholson noted that he was happy to see the last admission. Had the crime been against him, “he would have Scorned to have kept him in prison half an hour.” The council expressed concerns about Slye’s sincerity, but Nicholson pronounced himself satisfied. Asking only for bail to ensure Slye’s appearance at trial, he let the prisoner return home. Nicholson’s actions had deftly defused the situation. Slye and Coode did not challenge Maryland’s government for another decade. When Nicholson returned to Virginia later that year, he boasted to a member of the Board of Trade that Maryland was “in profound peace and quietness.”10
Scholars who have studied the governor’s record often seek to separate his ferocious temper from his faithful devotion to his duty. Nicholson’s unfortunate personal flaws, they suggest, undermined his real abilities as a governor.11 But Nicholson’s loyalty inspired not only his energetic administration, but his extraordinary anger. The strategy that Nicholson used against Slye also drove his rages. Nicholson’s aggressive tone and outrageous fits of passion demanded that subordinates fully recognize and accept his authority. Maintaining respect for government, he held, was not only the central task of governing. It provided the foundation of civilization itself. Nicholson’s anger, like his public persona as a whole, dramatized an authority that he believed brooked no competitors and admitted no questioning.
Examining Nicholson’s outbursts in the context of his career and his views of governing shows that he carefully picked his targets. He never directed his anger at his superiors. Rather than lashing out in blind fury, Nicholson’s anger expressed his faith in the traditional hierarchy of English authority, and in the sacred nature of church and crown.
Nicholson’s extraordinary American career began in early 1687 when he served as captain of a company of troops serving the Dominion of New England, King James II’s attempt to consolidate control over all the northern mainland colonies. The thirty-two-year-old officer had already served in the army for about a decade, in Holland, northern Africa, and England. In his new American post, Nicholson quickly advanced to become deputy governor of New York and the Jerseys (then divided into two colonies). One of the earliest American accounts of his anger comes from this period. A lieutenant who served under him testified in 1689 about the time he was ordered to report to Nicholson’s quarters. The officer, who presumably spoke primarily Dutch, asked his corporal to accompany him. The arrival of the second officer so outraged Nicholson that he threatened to shoot the corporal if he did not leave immediately.12 Nicholson’s anger could be as long-lived as it was sudden. Even after an unparalleled career that included governorship of four colonies from South Carolina to Canada, rank as general, and even a knighthood, he continued to nurse his grudges against Blair. The former governor (then seventy-two) published a collection of documents in 1727 refuting charges made by the college president some twenty-three years before.13
This combination of quick resentment and settled grievances made Nicholson formidable. Not long after the prosecution of Slye, the Maryland legislature objected to the governor’s demeanor. His belligerence in the courtroom, it complained, left jurors “unjustly vexed menaced overawed [and] Deterred.” The legislators admitted Nicholson’s aggressiveness frightened them as well. They “humbly Implore[d]” him that he would “neither Implicitely or Expressly … Menace Deterr or overawe the house or any member thereof from freely debateing.”14
Maryland legislators, already at odds with Nicholson politically, may have been particularly sensitive to his manner. But other people reported similar fears. The Virginia minister Jonathan Monroe told the colony’s council that he had been riding in the woods in 1704 when the governor appeared and “abused him.” Monroe traveled with him for four miles, fearful that Nicholson might shoot him if he tried to leave.15 Even the great gentlemen of Virginia’s Council, the proud leaders of the mainland’s wealthiest colony, found Nicholson frightening. “Nobody went near him,” Blair later testified, “but in dread & terour.”16
Yet Blair was wrong to suggest that Nicholson directed his “rage & fury” at “all sorts of people.” The governor treated his superiors with exquisite caution, proclaiming his loyalty at every turn. “I hope in God,” he wrote in 1697, “I shall never be so great a Rogue as to eat his Ma’tys Bread, & not to the utmost of my power serve him.”17 Even a request to procure birds for royal gardens led him to issue at least three official orders in two colonies.18 English officials clearly found such displays of