Hamilton: The Revolution

Burr asks how “Hamilton the short-tempered protean” (224), founder of the coast guard and the New York Post, destroyed his own reputation. He announces the start of the Adams administration. Jefferson, as the election’s runner-up, is the vice president. Without Washington’s protection, Adams fires Hamilton and insults him. In a cut section, Hamilton raps “an open letter to the […] national embarrassment known as President John Adams” (224), the last line of which remains in the show. Hamilton drops a sheaf of paper. There is an uproar. Burr remarks that Hamilton has lost control, but Madison is pleased that Hamilton is gone and has taken down “the only other significant member of his party” (224). Jefferson sees Hamilton’s writing as dangerous, and suggests that they intimidate him.

A central idea in Act II is the way words built the nation but can also be destructive. In 1792, Hamilton was approached by three congressmen with supposed evidence that Hamilton had misused Treasury funds. Hamilton’s real transgression was his affair with Maria Reynolds and the payoffs to her husband. Facing accusations of embezzlement, Hamilton tried to save his reputation by publishing the Reynolds Pamphlet detailing his affair, regardless of the fallout for his family. In Hamilton, the pamphlet is a preemptive strike to get ahead of the story, but in either version, Hamilton made the questionable decision to publish life-destroying information. Since a pamphlet isn’t visually dramatic, Miranda wrote “Hurricane,” using the hurricane from his childhood, represented through lights and sounds, while Hamilton ponders his impossible problem. Nightmarishly, Jefferson distributes pamphlets to everyone, including the music director in the pit. Even King George shows up to dance and laugh. Then the stage falls quiet as Eliza enters and sings “Burn.”

In Hamilton’s study, Jefferson, Madison, and Burr accuse him of embezzlement. Hamilton says he can prove that he did nothing illegal if they promise secrecy. They agree, and Hamilton shows them James Reynold’s letter. Burr reads aloud, and the others are shocked. Hamilton explains the affair and shows his records. Exiting, Jefferson promises to keep his secret. Hamilton asks Burr how he can be sure that Burr won’t reveal this the next time they compete. Burr replies, “Alexander, rumors only grow. And we both know what we know” (231).

Hamilton is in the calm eye of a hurricane before the storm rages. In childhood, he survived a hurricane, escaping the Caribbean by writing. His writing won Eliza’s affections, achieved the Constitution’s approval, and created financial institutions from nothing. At age 12, he and his mother were sick. She died while holding him, but he “couldn’t seem to die” (232) himself. Hamilton decides that he can write his way out of this too, salvaging his reputation with complete honesty. Despite the reminder, “History has its eyes on you,” Hamilton announces: “The Reynolds Pamphlet” (233).

The company discovers the pamphlet. Hamilton’s rivals read aloud gleefully about the affair. They gossip and boo, and repeat happily, “Well, he’s never gon’ be president now” (234). Angelica enters with luggage, having left London immediately. Hamilton is grateful to see her, but she says, “I’m not here for you” (235). Angelica will always choose Eliza over Hamilton. The company continues to sing that he’ll never be president, although at least he didn’t steal. Jefferson, Madison, and Burr exclaim, “Did you ever see somebody ruin their own life?” and the ensemble replies, “His poor wife” (237). 

With a lantern and a stack of letters, Eliza sings that she kept and treasured Hamilton’s letters, because she thought they meant he was hers. Angelica warned her that Hamilton would put his survival first. No matter how much she rereads the letters that disarmed her, they don’t answer her questions. Hamilton published the details of sleeping with Maria in her bed, clearing his own name at his family’s expense. Afterward, Angelica said, “You have married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun” (238). Eliza accuses him of only caring about his legacy, deciding, “I’m erasing myself from the narrative” (238), because she won’t give historians the satisfaction of knowing her reaction to Hamilton’s betrayal. She burns the letters because her feelings, like their bed, are private, even though their love letters might have redeemed him in history. Eliza sings that he’s not welcome in their bed either, adding, “I hope that you burn” (238).

The anticipation was palpable before the first Broadway preview. Nearly 700 people entered the lottery for $10 front-row seats. Inside, the atmosphere was calm, even though six of 28 actors were making their Broadway debuts. When the doors finally opened, “the hurricane swept in” (241). Preview audiences are usually enthusiastic, but this crowd started screaming as Lacamoire’s head appeared in the pit. They stopped the show cheering at Odom and Miranda’s entrances. Afterward, the cast was dazed and overwhelmed. Anthony Ramos, who played Laurens and Philip Hamilton, exclaimed, “Nobody’s ever done that before. […] We gotta rise up. We gotta fuckin’ do it” (241). Ramos, at 24, was the youngest cast member, but he had known struggle. Growing up in the Brooklyn projects, Ramos hadn’t expected to survive past 20. Four days later, the hurricane multiplied when President Barack Obama attended the show. At intermission, Obama greeted the company privately onstage. Of his last months in office, Obama said, “I’ve got things to do. […] I’ve got to take my shot” (244).

Now 19 and a college graduate, Philip Hamilton has inherited his father’s intelligence along with his charm with women. Philip is excited to take on life and his father’s legacy. Philip asks two young women if they’ve seen George Eacker, who insulted Hamilton in a recent Fourth of July speech. Swooning, the girls point Philip toward the theater. Philip suggests that they get naked together later, and the girls happily agree. Philip confronts Eacker in his box at the theater during a play. Dismissively, Eacker calls Hamilton a “scoundrel” (245), and Philip as well. Philip challenges him to a duel. Eacker knows where to find Philip and shoos him away. At home, Philip anxiously asks his father for advice on his first duel, asserting that Eacker’s insults make it unavoidable. They couldn’t negotiate peace and will duel in New Jersey. Hamilton tells Philip to follow duel protocol, but fire into the air. Eacker will “follow suit if he’s truly a man of honor” (246). Killing someone would haunt him forever, and his “mother can’t take another heartbreak” (246). Philip promises. Facing Eacker, Philip nervously repeats lines from his nine-year-old birthday rap. They start to count to 10, and Philip raises his gun to the sky. George fires on seven. Philip falls.

Hamilton enters the doctor’s house frantically. Philip is alive, but he has lost a lot of blood, and his wound is infected. Hamilton kisses Philip’s forehead. Weakly, Philip tells his father that he was aiming toward the sky even before 10. Hamilton reassures Philip that he did everything right, pleading with him to rest and “stay alive…” (248). Eliza enters, desperate about Philip’s condition and the duel. Philip apologizes and reminisces about playing piano together. She counts to nine in French, and he repeats it. She counts again, but he falls silent after three. He dies.

Hamilton centers on questions. The characters ask: “What’d I miss?”; “Would that be enough?”; “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” (250). The musical is about words, but Philip’s death can’t be comprehended through language. After one workshop that ended with “Burn,” audiences thought Miranda made it impossible to believably reconcile their relationship. Miranda found writing their response to their son’s death to be even less possible. He didn’t know how to articulate something so profoundly devastating. Miranda realized that words couldn’t articulate it, and that was the song. He wrote “It’s Quiet Uptown” in a day, and it reduced the company to tears. Blankenbuehler, dealing with his daughter’s chemo, could barely handle it. The song also provides Hamilton and Eliza’s reconciliation, as their shared loss leads to forgiveness. In 2014, Oskar and Laurie Eustis’s 16-year-old son Jack died. Sorrow and a concern rippled through the company, as well as worry that the next scene on the schedule, “It’s Quiet Uptown,” would be too upsetting. When the couple walked into rehearsal, they were embraced. The company didn’t know that Miranda had sent Eustis a demo of the song, offering it as something to grieve with if it was helpful. They had listened to it once, and then over and over.

Angelica sings, “There are moments that the words don’t reach” (253), and losing a child is “unimaginable” (253). The Hamiltons move uptown. Hamilton starts appreciating quiet and routine, even praying. He has aged and walks across the city alone every day talking to himself. Hamilton tells Eliza that he doesn’t deserve her forgiveness, and that he wishes he could trade his life for Philip’s. If she will simply let him be with her, “that would be enough” (253). Hamilton asks if she likes living uptown. Eliza is silent for a moment. Then she takes Hamilton’s hand and says, “It’s quiet uptown” (254), and Hamilton breaks down. The company marvels at her forgiveness, and now she walks with him, working through the unimaginable together.

In 1800, Jefferson and Burr ran against each other for president. Jefferson was expected to win, making Burr, as second place, the automatic vice president. The race tied. Neither would concede, so it fell to the Federalist-controlled House to choose. They sought Hamilton’s advice. Jefferson was strongly in opposition to everything Hamilton believed, and Burr didn’t have strong beliefs. Choosing Burr seemed more logical, but beyond politics, Hamilton “was a believer in virtue. He had an ethical system” (256). Hamilton may have been the reason that Jefferson became president, but why aren’t there any Hamilton-minded people in government today? Chris Hayes and David Brooks, possibly the most prominent liberal and conservative voices (respectively) in the US media, suggest that both parties have become afraid to allow the other in. For Hamilton, Brooks said, “the goal is greatness” (257) for the country, even if some people are left behind. Hayes said, the musical is, at its core, about the conflict between Hamilton and Burr and “their styles of ambition. […] How do you get to the top, and what’s the most American way to do that?” (257). Brooks adds, “Are you the operator or the crusader” (257)

Jefferson asks, “Can we get back to politics?” (258). It’s 1800, and Jefferson and Burr are running for president. Madison and Jefferson complain about Burr’s non-stance. Madison suggests seeking an endorsement from Hamilton. Burr is actively campaigning, which has never been done, offering the ensemble smiles and charm. They find Jefferson a France-loving elitist while Burr is among them, friendly and approachable. The ensemble hounds Hamilton about who he will vote for. He doesn’t respond. While campaigning door-to-door, Burr surprises Hamilton at his doorstep. Burr explains that he’s following Hamilton’s example by pursuing what he wants. The election ties, leaving the decision to the delegates, and the ensemble pushes for Hamilton’s choice. Finally, Hamilton endorses Jefferson, because although he disagrees with Jefferson on everything, “Jefferson has beliefs. Burr has none” (261). Burr congratulates Jefferson, stating, “I look forward to our partnership” (261). After Burr campaigned against him, Jefferson isn’t interested in partnering. He decides that as the president, he can change that policy. Exiting, Jefferson tells Burr to thank Hamilton for endorsing him. 

Revisions can be made during previews, but they traditionally stop with opening night. Miranda was furiously reworking small issues, but the biggest question was the dramatization of the final duel. Burr needed to be a “worthy adversary” (263) for Hamilton, not just a villain. The historical Burr was enigmatic, quiet but compelling. Odom matched Burr’s measured charisma, although he admitted that he struggled to control his emotions when he was younger. The strength of Odom’s restraint as Burr made him powerful. Burr and Hamilton expressed their acrimony toward each other in 1804 through a chain of letters. In the musical, their overly polite correspondence allowed Odom to show Burr’s legitimate anger at Hamilton’s insults. Miranda’s writing and Odom’s portrayal of Burr has been called generous to one of history’s villains. Miranda commented that at different times, he has identified with both Burr Hamilton. Even with his successes, he has had jealous moments when others outpaced him. As a “high-octane striver,” that tendency never disappears because, as Miranda said, “I have so much to do!” (265).

Burr asks how Hamilton can support a political enemy just to spite Burr, adding that Hamilton has barred him from “the room where it happens for the last time” (266). In a letter, Burr confronts Hamilton for his disrespect and insults through the years, challenging him to speak face-to-face. He closes the letter, as they both do throughout, with, “I have the honor to be Your Obedient Servant” (266). Hamilton replies that no one trusts Burr because he doesn’t have beliefs, telling Burr to be specific about which insult and including “an itemized list of thirty years of disagreements” (267). Burr threatens to spill blood. Hamilton doesn’t want a fight, but he won’t apologize because he stands by his words. Burr challenges him to a duel, and Hamilton accepts.

Eliza finds Hamilton at his desk and beckons him to return to bed. Hamilton needs to write something and then go to a meeting at dawn. Eliza asks, “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” (268). Hamilton promises to return quickly. As she exits, Hamilton stops her and says, “Hey. Best of wives and best of women” (268).

Many of the details of the duel between Burr and Hamilton have been lost to history. Both guns were fired, and one bullet hit a high point in a nearby tree, and the other landed in Hamilton’s abdomen. Hamilton’s second claimed that he fired reflexively when hit, convinced on the boat home that the gun was still loaded. Burr’s second asserted that Hamilton shot at Burr and missed. According to a letter Hamilton wrote, he didn’t want to fight but felt obligated to preserve his reputation and remain a respected political voice. He would load his gun and go through the motions but not fire at Burr. This raised questions about staging and Hamilton’s motivation for risking his life. Initially, Miranda decided that Hamilton wouldn’t explain. Eustis, however, argued that after Hamilton spent the entire musical singing about not throwing away his shot, the audience would need to know why he did. Finally, Eustis suggested that maybe Hamilton knew what he would do but then questioned himself in the moment. Miranda liked this and made changes shortly before opening. This gave the scene tension despite foreknowledge of the outcome. Odom’s reasoning for Burr shooting Hamilton was different from night to night, so Miranda never knew which iteration of Burr would show up.

As the company calls out the steps of the duel, Burr lists for the audience his defense for believing that Hamilton had serious intent to kill him. As a soldier, Hamilton is a marksman, while Burr is a bad shot. Although Burr learned this later, their duel was near where Philip was killed. Hamilton rigorously inspected his gun, and he wore his glasses, suggesting that he planned to aim. Burr’s only thought before shooting was that one of them had to die, and he wouldn’t orphan his daughter. The company counts. When they call, “Fire” (273), time freezes. Hamilton questions whether he is about to die, and whether throwing away his shot would overshadow his legacy. He calls America a “great unfinished symphony” for which he “wrote some notes at the beginning of a song” (273), where even an immigrant orphan can succeed.

Hamilton knows that some of his loved ones are waiting for him on the other side, such as Laurens, his son, his mother, and Washington. Hamilton tells Eliza, “My love, take your time. I’ll see you on the other side” (273). Then Hamilton aims toward the sky. Burr cries, “Wait!” (273), but fires. Hamilton falls. Burr is pulled away. He says that Angelica and Eliza were both with Hamilton when he died. He sings that history has preserved his mistakes and that although Hamilton died, Burr paid the price by becoming history’s villain. He finishes, “I should have known the world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me” (275).

On August 6, 2015, the 1,300 screaming audience members witnessed Hamilton’s Broadway opening. The final song reminds audiences to consider their own legacies. For Hamilton, many grieved, but Eliza spent her life upholding his legacy. The power of legacies is their ability to inspire action. During opening night’s Ham4Ham show—the impromptu show outside for the people who were hoping to win the ticket lottery—Miranda read aloud about Eliza from Chernow’s book and realized that the musical was a part of her legacy.

After the show, reviews appeared online, raving about the musical’s radical ambition and stunning vibrance. Jeffrey Seller hired The Roots to play the opening night party, and Black Thought invited Miranda up to rap freestyle. The show launched Miranda, as well as many of his castmates, into stardom. The partygoers went outside to the pier to watch fireworks on the same spot where Hamilton had been rowed back to New York after his final duel. 

Washington sings that he learned with age, “You have no control: who lives, who dies, who tells your story” (280). Jefferson and Madison begrudgingly admit that Hamilton doesn’t get enough credit for his brilliant financial system. Eliza sings, “I put myself back in the narrative” (280), devoting her remaining 50 years to Hamilton’s legacy. She organizes and publishes his writings and interviews soldiers who fought with Hamilton. Angelica helps until she dies and is buried near him. Eliza raises money for the Washington Monument and fights against slavery, effectively giving Hamilton more time. She founded New York’s first private orphanage. Eliza says she can’t wait to see him again. Hamilton enters, takes her hand, and leads her away.

On November 2, 2015, after a special fundraising performance, Barack Obama walked onstage and asked, “What’d I miss?” (284). Obama asserted that the multiracial cast represented a unified vision of America, and “it’s about who we are, who’s seen, who’s recognized, whose histories are affirmed” (284). The Epilogue notes that the many parallels between Hamilton and Obama’s platform demonstrated that these ideals were present at the country’s formation.