nicholas fish is my daily reminder that letters aren't everything and we lack a whole bunch of context and interactions. he had a lifelong friendship with hamilton we don't know much about due to lack of correspondence (fish might've burned them for privacy, especially since he and morris got their hands on ham's papers after his death, i believe).
but i think it must have been a steady and deep 30 yr long friendship: they were college frat bros together (debate club actually but i bet they acted like frat bros), members of the hearts of oak in the 1770s - and he was later involved in hamfamily matters, referenced at times in letters between ham and betsey. he was even the second for a potential duel between ham and nicholson in 1795.
and of course, his son born in 1808 was named hamilton fish.
unfortunately i find the name "hamilton fish" hilarious, moreso because hamilton fish named his son hamilton fish II, who named his son hamilton fish III, who named his son hamilton fish IV. somebody named hamilton fish IV was walking around on this earth up to 1996.
i just get all emotional when i think about how family names often reflect close loved ones. even if the names end up being ridiculous. hamilton lasting in the fish family names until the literal 1990s, laurens slipping into the hamilton family names.
also, for my hamilton musical enthusiasts: the cellist for the west end run of hamilton was chris fish, a direct discendant of nicholas fish!
“As the Americans were mounting the redoubt, Lieutenant-Colonel Laurens, aid-de-camp to the commander-in-chief, appeared suddenly on their flank, at the head of two companies. Upon Major Fish hailing him with, “Why, Laurens, what brought you here?” the hero replied, “I had nothing to do at headquarters, and so came here to see what you all were about.” Bravest among the brave, this Bayard of his age and country rushed with the foremost into the works, making with his own hand, Major Campbell, the British commandant, a prisoner-of-war. The cry of the Americans as they mounted to the assault was, “Remember New London.””
— Recollections and private memoirs of Washington by his adopted son George Washington with a memoir of the author by his daughter, by George Washington · 1860
Nicholas Fish to Elizabeth Hamilton, [March 22, 1822]
22 March, 1822
Dear Madam,
The circumstances which I had the honor of communicating to you some time since in conversation, relative to the introduction of French troops into this country during our revolutionary war, I fully intended long since to have stated to you in writing, but the disordered and painful state of one of my eyes, which for several months, occasioned by confinement to a dark room, has till now prevent me from doing. You will perceive Madam in the statement which I now have the honor to transmit on that Subject, that I have introduced some particulars, which though not immediately connected with the principal fact, will tend to show the existence of a long established friendship and intimacy between General Hamilton and myself and the relative situation in which we were placed, and thereby be explanation of confidential communications made to me by him.
In the campaign of 1781 Genl. Hamilton, after he had retired from the family of Genl. Washington, was appointed by him to the command of a select corps of Infantry, of which had the honor of being next in command, this Corps was composed of the light companies of the New-York line, and two light companies of the Connecticut line, and thus organized marched with the main army from the banks of the Hudson River to Virginia, where the Marquis La Fayette was then in command, with a body of light troops, previously detached from the army—On General Washington's arrival in Virginia with the combined army, (American & French) La Fayette, with his troops joined the army, & Hamilton's Corps was annexed to the Marquis' command—the French fleet under the command of Count de Grasse having arrived in the Chesapeak to co-operate with the combined army, the siege of York-town commenced; during which, and throughout the whole of that Campaign, I had the happiness and good fortune of being the mess mate of Genl. Hamilton, and of occupying with him the same tent—this added to our previous intimacy and uninterrupted friendship from the year 1775, when he was a student of King's College, and where with a few others we had formed a weekly club, for improving ourselves in debating & public speaking, naturally led occasionally to confidential and unreserved conversations; in one of these, the General speaking of the Marquis La Fayette, said, The United States are under infinite obligations to him beyond what is known, not only for his valor & good conduct as Major Genl. In our army, but for his good offices & influences in our behalf with the court of France—the French army now here, co-operating with us, would not have been in this Country, but through his means, he then said, that for some considerable time previous to the arrival of the French army under Count Rochambeau; he Genl. Hamilton had conceived the idea, and had weighed in his own mind the propriety of such a measure, and having satisfied himself on that subject, he had suggested the idea to the Marquis La Fayette, expressing to him at the same time, not only the powerful effect that would be produced in our army, and the Country generally, by the introduction of a small military force from France, to cooperate with us, but the increased effect that would result, should the Marquis himself be appointed to the chief command—This project met a welcome reception, and after some remarks, as to the details of the plan, the Marquis with all the zeal and promptitude which characterized him, addressed the French Government, and their Ambassador here, on the subject, urging the advantages which would result to both nations, from having a French military force in this Country; this proposition was immediately patronized and inforced by the family & connections of the Marquis, who were then in power and great influence in France, and accordingly adopted by that Government.
An army under County Rochambeau was sent to this Country: a fleet under County de Grasse, was also sent, and the capture of Lord Cornwallis' army which terminated the war, and sealed our Independence, was the consequence—As the idea of introducing into this country, a small auxiliary army from France, first presented itself to the mind of Genl. Hamilton, as avowed by him to me, and possibly not communicated by him to any other friend, I deem it a duty incumbent on me, and a tribute due to his memory, that the knowledge of that fact should not be lost, but be preserved and recorded as an additional evidence of his brilliancy of imagination and preeminent services to his Country.
When the siege of York town had commenced, our first parallel line was thrown up, it became evident, that the two Redoubts which Lord Cornwallis had constructed in front of the town, would prolong the siege, until they could be allowed by our cannon, or taken by storm; the former of these methods would probably have been preferred and preserved in with confidence of ultimate success, had not the French Admiral announced his wish to return with his fleet to the West Indies, intimating that circumstances would compel him to depart in a few days—thus circumstanced Genl. Washington and induced to change his plan of regular approaches, for the more expeditious one of storming those works-to this end an arrangement was made that one Redoubt should be attacked by a column of American light Infantry, and the other by a column of French Grenadiers. The command of the American Infantry consisting of two Battalions one commanded by Col. Gemat, the other by myself—was given to Genl. Hamilton, and a signal from our grand battery answered by a correspondent signal from the French battery, put the two columns of attack immediately in motion.
The American Infantry animated by the address and example of their leader, marched to the attack, with Muskets unloaded and Bayonets fixed relying on their Bayonets alone for success; they soon arrived at the counterscarp, under a heavy and constant fire from the redoubt, which they bravely sustained, and surmounting all difficulties and impediments of abattis, ditch and palisade mounted the parapet and took possession of the work together with those who had defended it, and Major Campbell the commanding Officer; all this was effected agreeably to previous arrangement made by Genl. Hamilton; and his troops regularly formed within the Redoubt and order completely restored, while the other column, whose mode of attack was different, were yet engaged in the conflict.
I have the honor to be
With great respect
Dear Madam
Your friend & humble servant
I am sorry that for want of a person to send them with, I have been obliged to detain your horses till now. The articles I shall want from Duychinks3 are:
four pint decanters if to be had, if not two Quart do.
a dozen wine glasses
two ale-glasses to hold about a pint each, if not to be had,
two tumblers.
You will oblige me by procuring these articles as soon as possible, having them carefully packed up in a small box and forwarded to Major Kearse.4 I shall also thank you to speak to him in your way to Camp about forwarding them as soon as they arrive by water; beg his particular care. I shall not be able to give a friend a glass of wine ’till these arrive, for they are not to be had here. Let me know what they cost by the first opportunity.
Adieu my Dr friend Yrs.
A Hamilton
Perhaps you may meet with some friend coming directly up whose Portmanteau may not be too much crowded to receive them.
Send my horses by return of the bearer, unless they should be in too bad plight to travel. In this case, be so good as to put them out where they will be taken care of, and at the same time will not cost much for keeping.”
_____
About this time, Hamilton and Eliza would have been setting up their first real home together in Albany, leaving the Schuyler Mansion where they had lived after Hamilton first came home from the war. I love how this letter underscores just how young, broke, and absolutely desperate for all manner of drinking glasses they were :D
“Classes are cancelled, Hamilton!” a pale blue scarf suddenly wrapped around Alexander’s mouth and turned his face to a wide grin and warm eyes. “Yet I come home and find your nose in book again.”
The quill in Alex’s fingers dropped, probably smearing his ink. He didn’t care. Nicholas pulled the scarf so it brushed against his throat, soft fabric too much like a careless caress, and he was leaning close, hip cocked against their desk, face close and flushed. Alex thought of a dozen witticisms about his nose…
He had been drinking rum while reading. Perhaps he should stop.
“The boys are out at Stoker’s tonight,” Nicholas said. “Where I heard the most fascinating news,” his grin slanted to one side, sloppy and saccharine. He reached up one hand to poke Alexander on the cheek, delicate. “You put in for the match manager position…”
The boys…the Corsicans. A row at the tavern that Alexander had not been invited to- because Lieutenant Jay had him in consideration, an officer-to-be. He supposed he should be glad to have been separated from their antics, that the masks were working and his peers considered him too responsible for the Fighting Cocks… too gentlemanly.
Right now- he was drunk. He caught the scent of whiskey on Nick’s breath and took comfort in the idea that his friend was also listless. It certainly explained the pretty flush on Nick’s cheeks. Alexander would never admit it, but he’d been unable to shake the nervousness he felt in his presence. He attempted it by lying to himself, by pretending, but it hadn’t abated.
But, what he was saying- the position Alex had put in for and the strangely pleased expression he was wearing for what should be a scummy job. None of it made sense, “Why were you asking about me there?”
Nicholas turned, waving a dismissive hand and leaning over the desk, planting one hand by Alex’s book. It brought his chest to eye-level. “Later, later. I’m only saying I was there- to explain why I’m so…” he gestured towards himself, a twirl of his hand.
“Drunk?”
Nicholas grinned like Alex had apprehended something secret. “What’re you reading?” he then slid down to kneel by Alex’s chair, one arm stretched over the tabletop.
Right…his reading. Nicholas had a tendency to careen into a room and throw Alex’s focus to the winds. Tall and broad, a sharp nose and clever brown eyes. It was only friendliness, and it was hardly his fault that Alex let himself succumb. He likely wasn’t even aware of his effect- he probably wouldn’t have agreed to sharing an apartment if he was.
Was this the part of himself Alexander couldn’t deny- the part that Mulligan had warned him about?
Alex reached for the rum he’d left on the desk and swallowed twice.
“Latin or Greek?” Nicholas said, then swayed forward so his cheek rested against Alex’s thigh. “I speak both y’know.”
Alex drank again for good measure. “It’s Plato.”
A hum in response.
“The ring of Gyges.”
Nicholas sat up then, “The ‘completely Just’ man,” he said as if to demonstrate his understanding- though he should know, Alex hardly understood anything he was reading. Greek had never been his forte and Nicholas helped him through most of his assignments. “We discussed this in my philosophy class,” Nicholas said, “Though our conversation was distracted as we tried to define what the just and unjust man should look like. How can such a man even exist?”
“One who is completely unjust?”
“Right- we all had different definitions of what it must mean to be unjust- some said he was a thief, others a tyrant, but…how can any design be true?”
Alex was hardly through translating, much less interpreting the lessons of Plato’s dialogue, so he could only give a shrug. “I don’t believe that’s the point of it,” he said. “There can’t be a correct answer- but the definitions aside, he’s talking about how an unjust man would act- no matter how you define it.”
“But that is the point of Plato,” Nicholas insisted. “To discuss- it doesn’t matter if we talk about the subject he intended, here, come-” he pushed up from the floor and grabbed Alex’s hand, urged him across the room, nearly stumbling over their wool rug, a modest furnishing for their modest apartment. He dropped onto their mattress with a thump, disturbing the messy blankets and pulling them aside to make room. “You need a proper definition of justness to understand the story.”
“Plato spent his life writing dialogues trying to define that very subject…” Alex protested, following his friend- he could hardly help it. It was just a story- one of many in a book of Plato’s works that Mulligan had brought to him while he’d been packing his bags. “If he could never come to a definitive answer, I think we should conclude that the answer is relative. Every man is entitled to his own opinion of what’s right…” and, Alexander knew from experience, he’d only risk himself to contend.
But, Nicholas was pouting, pulling up his legs to sit, facing his friend. He pulled Alex’s hand into his lap, gripping it fiercely. “If you allow justness to remain relative, how can society ever progress? Just saying ‘that’s your opinion’ and moving on, there’s nothing actionable in that! There must be some general consensus of what it means to be just- to be right. Take murder- pretty much anywhere you go, people agree it’s wrong to murder someone, so if you say moral correctness is a matter of opinion, you discount universal truth- you claim that such a thing doesn’t exist!”
Alex had no response to this and so glanced away from his friend and back to the book on his desk. He could think of several scenarios in which he would excuse murder, though he knew his friend was discounting the proper examples like war and self-defense. Still. Nicholas was wise beyond his years. Even younger than Alexander- who always thought himself wise, Nicholas was confident of his beliefs- unlike Alexander…whose mind always felt like a muddle. A muddle of philosophy, a muddle of causes, a muddle of desires… of lusts… If Nicholas knew that Alex wanted to kiss him- to rub his face into the crook of his neck, hold him close and move against him- “But, then how can we say our truth is better than anyone else’s? To claim that a universal truth exists, you’d have to be able to say no one would disagree with you. That’s not possible. Someone will always disagree- a different culture, different upbringing.”
“So then it’s a qualified universal truth,” Nicholas said, pulling on Alex’s hand so that he sat heavily on the bed beside him. “Qualified to say that all respectable men agree, and so anyone who disagrees is no longer respectable. With matters such as murder and cannibalism, I think all civilization agrees, so we should have no problem expressing disgust against the rest. I mean, any civilized man would be revolted with blood on his hands- much less eating flesh.”
He said this, but in the same breath, grabbed Alex’s leg and tugged so that Alex slid across the mattress and half into his lap, wrapping his arms affectionately around his shoulders. Alex wanted to bite at his throat where he was tucking his face. He was too drunk, disgusted with himself.
“Even beyond the obvious, I think we should know in our hearts what it means to do right,” Nicholas said. “We’re at war now, Alex…we’re to be leaders in that, right?” He tilted his head against Alex’s, his hair scratching against his forehead softly, “I imagine the unjust man might be unjust because he simply lacks a definition of what it means to be just- he believes such a definition doesn’t exist and so he’s decided not to make one. If we’re to be leaders, we’re wearing the Ring of Gyges. Our men don’t see us as we are- right or wrong. They see us as a leader…and if we have no definition of justness- how can we do right by them?”
Nicholas was too drunk to make any sense, but Alex had to consider his friend’s philosophies. The necessity of a moral code- of causes. Stevens, Knox, Mulligan- they were all sure that he was meant for something better, and all the while, he wilted under their patronage. He wasn’t a follower- was never the sort of man who could believe in a thing simply because he was told, but still… he should believe in something. He shouldn’t be so goddamn empty.
“I’m glad you put in for match manager at Stoker’s place,” Nicholas said, drawing back far enough to let their foreheads rest together, in a haze. He smiled confidentially, as if he had Alex completely- and he did. “Mulligan told me he has a double-agent there and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to trail him.”
Alex pulled back, confused. “What?”
Nicholas grinned. He had visited Mulligan’s shop enough times for Alexander to know his involvement with the Sons of Liberty- for him to know that Nicholas was interested in the rebel cause wholeheartedly- for Nicholas to know that Alex could make a highly-effective spy if he needed to, invisible as if he didn’t exist.
“I would trust no one else,” Nicholas said, and before Alex could protest the assumption that he would take the job, Nicholas leaned forward, letting their lips brush, soft and wet- then warm, kissing with a short passion. Alex pushed back helplessly, wanting to grab him and join their whole bodies- hardly given time to realize what had happened before it was over. Nicholas pulled away, eyes half-lidded and coy, his expression contradicting his motions as he hugged Alex like a brother, “I’m so glad Mulligan picked you…”
Alex was sure he should correct his friend, tell him that Hercules had no influence on his application at the Fighting Cocks Tavern- that he had no interest in trailing a double-agent, even for the rebel cause…
But, Nicholas was nuzzling against his neck affectionately, whispering soft praises to his talent as an agent, for his work with Mulligan, as he had been shiftless and driven by the benefit of pretending causes and looking a hero for the underbelly of New York- a rebel who never believed in anything.
Nicholas believed. That was clearer than ever.
Perhaps he spoke Greek, but this flirtation was tactical- a recruitment to one of Mulligan’s assignments. Even if the kiss was heartfelt, it stung like poison, but the message was clear. If Alex had learned any Greek from his friend’s tutoring- "Nikolaos,“ he breathed in return. A synthetical origin from the characterization o laos tis nikis…the people of victory…
Nicholas believed in this cause- that it would see victory.
In Trumbull’s “Surrender of Lord Cornwallis”, this is Fish:
He’s standing behind Hamilton and Laurens, with Walter Stuart in the foreground.
Major Fish was Hamilton’s second-in-command for the attack on Redoubt Ten. AH had written to EH in August: “Major Fish is with me. I prize him both as a friend as an officer.”
I’ve noted before how few letters and accounts remain of the friendship between Fish and Hamilton. I quote myself:
This was one of AH’s longest and probably closest friendships, and AH obviously had a great deal of trust and confidence in him. Fish was a NYC native whom AH likely first met at King’s College, where the former had moved from the College of New Jersey to study law. They formed a composition and speaking club together (with Robert Troup, Edward Stevens, and Samuel and Henry Nicoll); they enlisted in the militia together in spring 1775, although they go separate ways for most of the war. AH probably personally selected Fish as his second-in-command when he received his own field command in July 1781, and was with him at Yorktown. [Fish later provides both Timothy Pickering and EH with details about AH during the war - including information he likely would not have known unless AH had told him.] Jumping ahead over a decade, Fish serves as AH’s second in his affair of honor with Nicholson (1795). Jump ahead another decade, and he’s one of the executors of AH’s will. Fish names his only son (born in 1808) Hamilton.
And here Fish is, pushed all the way to the side even in a painting! (I suspect Fish himself destroyed most of their correspondence.) I’m so interested in these relationships that we have so little information about.
