Non-Stop

The following exchange between Hamilton and Burr illustrates Hamilton’s need to one-up (including, but not limited to), Burr, unnecessarily elaborating on whatever Burr says with additional (and sometimes irrelevant) extensions of the same thought.

After the Revolutionary War, the Hamiltons set up house at 57 Wall Street and began to raise a family. Hamilton studied law, completing the three-year course in six months.
In this line, like Hamilton’s next line, he is essentially repeating what Burr said, just with some added embellishment.

Talk about non-stop…

PROPOSED SUGGESTION: From Yorktown, Hamilton returned to Albany, where Eliza was waiting. The family (Philip was born in January 1782) lived there while Alexander designed a crash course in law, to take advantage of a recent NY State law that allowed veterans to skip the standard 3-year apprenticeship (clerkship) in law. The study notes Hamilton composed proved so useful that according to his son John C. Hamilton, many aspiring lawyers later copied them out by hand. The notes were published in 2004 as Practical Proceedings in the Supreme Court of the State of New York.

Hamilton was admitted to the bar in July 1782. That same month, he took up the position of tax receiver of New York State, and was chosen as one of five New York State delegates to Congress, which went into session in Philadelphia in November 1782. He moved to New York City after the British evacuated the city in November 1783.

Chernow:

The lives of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr continued in parallel. Both had passed the bar in Albany at almost the same time, and they now occupied the same New York street and inaugurated their legal practices at almost the same time.

Chernow highlights Hamilton and Burr’s different approaches to the practice of law:

Though Hamilton appreciated that Burr could be resourceful in court, he found something empty beneath the surface. “It is certain that at the bar he is more remarkable for ingenuity and dexterity than for sound judgment or good logic,” he said. On another occasion, Hamilton elaborated on this critique: “His arguments at the bar were concise. His address was pleasing, his manners were more—they were fascinating. When I analyzed his arguments, I could never discern in what his greatness consisted.” Hamilton venerated the law, while Burr often seemed mildly bored and cynical about it. “The law is whatever is successfully argued and plausibly maintained,” he stated.

This may be reflected in Hamilton’s interjection here—while Burr tells the audience he is practicing law, Hamilton interrupts to clarify that Burr does not truly practice law. What Burr does is “work” in the field of law, but it is Hamilton who truly and honestly breathes, believes, and lives the practice of law to better the nation. It’s a subtle dig at Burr’s approach of just doing whatever succeeds for him.

The line also seems like a response to Hamilton’s interjection. Burr is like “Hey, I did that too. And I finished law school.” Hamilton, never allowing himself to be outdone, has done the same.

Chernow:

The lives of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr continued in parallel. Both had passed the bar in Albany at almost the same time.

A small liberty that LMM took.

Echoes “Hamilton faces an endless uphill climb” from “Wait For It.”

Even though they started together and Burr’s name was actually better known than Hamilton’s, by the end of the song only Hamilton makes it to Philadelphia as a delegate for New York.

Hamilton has succeeded in his ambitions to “rise up” from the earlier song “My Shot.”

In the Broadway show, there is a brief scene immediately before “Non-Stop” that was excluded from the album: “Tomorrow There’ll Be More of Us.” Hamilton discovers that his dear friend Laurens has died, and he tells Eliza: “I have so much work to do.”

This suggests a heartbreaking interpretation of Hamilton’s work ethic in this song—he works to distract himself from the grief.

“Non-Stop” and its themes also characterize in the darker side of Hamilton’s political activity—his uncontrollable need to smack down his “haters,” as Miranda has called them.

Ron Chernow wrote,

Again and again in his career, Hamilton committed the same political error: he never knew when to stop, and the resulting excesses led him into irremediable indiscretions.

While we had a taste of this with Charles Lee, this trait really blossoms next act.

In the Broadway show, there is a brief scene immediately before “Non-Stop” that was excluded from the album: “Tomorrow There’ll Be More of Us.” Hamilton discovers that his dear friend Laurens has died, and he tells Eliza: “I have so much work to do.”

This suggests a heartbreaking interpretation of Hamilton’s work ethic in this song—he works to distract himself from the grief.

“Non-Stop” and its themes also characterize in the darker side of Hamilton’s political activity—his uncontrollable need to smack down his “haters,” as Miranda has called them.

Ron Chernow wrote,

Again and again in his career, Hamilton committed the same political error: he never knew when to stop, and the resulting excesses led him into irremediable indiscretions.

While we had a taste of this with Charles Lee, this trait really blossoms next act.

It has to be “gentlemen of the jury.” At this point in history, women didn’t have the right to vote, let alone serve on juries. Not until 1973 could women serve on juries in all 50 states.

Here Miranda plays with the chronology a little bit. Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr did serve as defense attorneys on the Levi Weeks case, the earliest recorded murder trial in U.S. history, but the trial was in 1800, long after Hamilton wrote the Federalist papers and became Treasury Secretary.

One of Hamilton’s first cases as a criminal defense lawyer was actually a dueling trial. He lost. True story.

Hamilton/Miranda is playing with Latin root words here, because why the heck not!

Both liberty and deliberation take some of their meaning from the Latin liber, for ‘free.’ Liberty gets its English meaning of ‘freedom’ from liberté’s old French connotation of ‘free will,’ or ‘free choice.’ Deliberation means to ‘choose carefully or with consideraton,’ from a conflation between to librare—‘to weigh’ (with scales, libra)—and liberare—‘to make free.’

Essentially, Hamilton has constructed an extremely pithy way say that you cannot make a good decision without true freedom of choice, which Americans now have since they achieved their independence.

In this rap-monologue, Hamilton just keeps rolling through, barely having time for breath—yet another kind of non-stop.

This is musically reinforced by the way Miranda structured Hamilton’s verses. The rhyme scheme, stresses, and meters do not align with the usual 4/4 bar phrase, which gives the illusion of literally rambling non-stop.

For example, the first verse places the rhymes “with me” and “hist'ry” on beats 1 and 4, respectively. The second verse places the rhymes “harmony” and “albany” on beats 4 and 3, respectively. Hamilton is talking so fast even his words are struggling to catch up.

Other phrases like “This colony’s economy’s increasingly stalling and” puts the stresses off beat. If you counted the syllables, they are not in multiples of four, i.e. on beat – Hamilton is speaking so quickly that his stresses are faster than the musical stresses.

Proof “beyond a shadow of a doubt” is impossible to obtain. Further, the role of a defense attorney is not to prove innocence, but to throw as much doubt as humanly possible onto the prosecution’s case. In our current legal system, a defendant is presumed innocent unless the prosecution can demonstrate guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Similar phrases, but totally different meanings.

The modern concept of “reasonable doubt” had not been fully developed, and there is no record of its use in the US before the Weeks trial in 1799-1800. Burr and Hamilton’s defense of Levi Weeks has been credited as the first case to acquit a defendant due to “reasonable doubt” (rather than evidence of innocence). It set the precedent for our current burden of proof standard.

That doesn’t mean this was the first use of the phrase. Another iteration of “reasonable doubt” was in use by Europeans, but it’s purpose was to create a religious loophole for Christian judges, who believed it was a sin to issue a guilty verdict if they had even a “shadow of a doubt” about someone’s guilt. Without this loophole, judges risked their immortal soul every time they convicted someone – thus muddying the waters a bit by asking them to declare someone “guilty beyond a reasonable doubt” allowed these judges to convict more people.

Miranda may be using “beyond a shadow of a doubt” to allude to the fact that “reasonable doubt” (as we know it now) hadn’t been invented yet. It also might be used to playfully foreshadow the role this trial would have on this concept. Alternately, this may simply demonstrate Hamilton’s overzealous desire to accomplish the impossible, and highlight Burr’s restraint.

Hamilton tries to play it like he’s the lead on this case, and Burr has to remind him that they’re sharing the top billing.

To the Chernow!

That the competition between Hamilton and Burr originated in their early days in legal practice is confirmed by a tale told by James Parton, an early Burr biographer. The first time that the two men jointly defended a client, the question came up as to who would speak first and who would sum up. Protocol stipulated that the lead attorney would do the summation, and Hamilton wished to be the one. Burr was so offended by this patent vanity that in his opening speech he tried to anticipate all the points that Hamilton would likely make. Apparently, he was so effective at this that Hamilton, embarrassed, had nothing to say at the end. If the story is true, it was one of the few times that Alexander Hamilton was ever left speechless.

This seems to be a subtle reference to ‘'Sit Down, John,’' the opening number from Sherman Edwards' musical 1776 — a reference made even more explicitly later in “The Adams Administration”.

Weeks was accused of murdering his girlfriend, Gulielma Sands.

Sands and Weeks lived in the same boarding house, run by Sands' cousin Catherine Ring, a Quaker. By all appearances, Sands and Weeks were lovers, and there were rumors that Sands was pregnant with Weeks' child.

Sands told her cousin that she would be married to Weeks on Sunday, December 22, 1799. Sands left the house on Sunday night, never to return. Eleven days later her body was found at the bottom of a well.

The public believed Weeks to be the murderer (thousands visited the open casket), but the dream team of Burr, Hamilton, and Livingston—hired by Weeks' wealthy brother—asserted that Sands was melancholy and committed suicide by throwing herself down the well.

The acquittal did nothing to change public opinion; Weeks was forced to leave New York.

A great book on the trial, and what life was like in NY at the time it occured, is Paul Collins' Duel with the Devil.

When Burr states “Levi Weeks is innocent. Call your first witness. That’s all you had to say!” he is describing the procedural aspects of law—that a defense attorney can use witnesses to sow doubt about a defendant’s guilt, and that sufficient doubt (rather than evidence of innocence) should exonerate a client.

In addition to providing a partial alibi and discrediting many of prosecution’s witnesses, a member of the defense team (probably Burr) held a candelabra right up to the face of one witness—a creepy old dude who was also at the scene of the crime—and said, “Behold the murderer!”

This trial was important not only because it showcases Hamilton and Burr’s legal prowess, but also because it is believed to have introduced the modern concept of “reasonable doubt” into our criminal justice system.

Miranda appears to give more credit to Burr, though this is disputed by historians, who apparently wish to perpetuate the feud between Hamilton and Burr more than two centuries later.

See: Founding Father frenemies Hamilton and Burr ‘Duel With the Devil’ by Paul Collins for more information.

A classic comedic beat. See also: John Mayer’s “My Stupid Mouth”: “Oh I’m never speaking up again / Starting now… / One more thing”

Chernow writes:

Hamilton had the most durable pair of lungs in the New York bar and could speak extemporaneously in perfectly formed paragraphs for hours. But it was not always advantageous to have a brain bubbling with ideas. Robert Troup complained that the prolix Hamilton never knew when to stop: “I used to tell him that he was not content with knocking [his opponent] in the head, but that he persisted until he had banished every little insect that buzzed around his ears.”

In contrast, according to one general:

“[…] Burr would say as much in half an hour as Hamilton in two hours. Burr was terse and convincing, while Hamilton was flowing and rapturous.” Hamilton smothered opponents with arguments, while Burr resorted to cunning ruses and unexpected tricks to carry the day.

There’s a clear contrast here between Hamilton’s penchant for running his mouth off and Burr’s preference to wait for the perfect thing to say at the right time. Alexander completely ignores Burr’s prior suggestion, “That’s all you had to say!” and blurts another idea, only to be cut off by Burr’s comments questioning “Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?” It’s a double condemnation: Hamilton believes whatever he has to say is worth hearing because he’s so smart, and he also assumes he knows better than Burr or others, even though they may not be saying the thing he’s decided to blurt out because of some kind of strategy that he’s decided to ignore.

The repetition of the lines also parallels Burr’s commentary on Hamilton—by repeating the same thing many times he keeps up with Hamilton’s rhythms without having to resort to Hamilton’s word vomit.

In the background you can hear Heys, which have been explained as follows:

One of many times Burr hints at Hamilton’s impending death by his own hand. Others are mentioned in “Aaron Burr, Sir,” “My Shot,” and “Hurricane,” when Alexander says, “I couldn’t seem to die” and Burr responds “wait for it.”

The “hey"s on the offbeats of this section are actually Lin-Manuel Miranda providing some background vocals:

A bit of foreshadowing—Hamilton would die 17 years later at the age of 49. Despite dying at a younger age than any other founding father, Hamilton still left a huge body of work because of how prolific he was while he lived.

Hamilton actually answered this question when the pair first met—where he comes from people do not expect to live long lives, and so he takes to heart the attitude of his home that he should “make this moment last”. Of course, by this point they’ve all been through the Revolutionary War, some of them failing to see the other side. In “Tomorrow There’ll Be More Of Us,” the previous song in the full stage version of the show, Hamilton was confronted with the news of Laurens' death and how he never got to accomplish his goals. This, too, spurs Hamilton to start “writing like he’s running out of time.”

Political corruption has been prevalent in Albany (the capital and political center of New York) since the start of the state.

For example, in 1779—before the United States even ended its war against Great Britain—the governor, a judge, and two Indian Affairs officials billed a fancy weekend in Albany to the state. Included in the bill were extravagant meals, grooming, and lodging.

In 1882, freshman assemblyman Theodore Roosevelt, a Republican, wrote this in his journal:

A number of Republicans, including most of their leaders, are bad enough, but over half the Democrats, including almost all the City Irish, are vicious, stupid-looking scoundrels with apparently not a redeeming trait… a stupid, sodden vicious lot, most of them being equally deficient in brains and virtue.

Albany today is no better. Former Speaker of the Assembly Sheldon Silver (D) was found guilty of federal corruption charges in 2015. Republican State Senator Thomas Libous was found guilty of lying to FBI agents. Preet Bharara, the U.S. Attorney for New York’s Southern District, has described Albany as the “cauldron of corruption.”

In fact, corruption’s such a strong presence in Albany that they actually host the Museum of Political Corruption there.

In August 1782, when Hamilton was working as tax receiver for New York State under U.S. Superintendent of Finances Robert Morris, he wrote a blistering 4,000 word analysis of the situation in New York State. “The inquiry constantly is what will please not what will benefit the people. In such a government there can be nothing but temporary expedient, fickleness and folly.” His thumbnail sketches of New York politicians are hilarious. For example: “His zeal is fiery, his obstinacy unconquerable. He is as primitive in his notions, as in his appearance. Without education, he wants more knowlege, or more tractableness.”

One of several allusions throughout Act I, first occurring in “My Shot” to Hamilton’s interest in economics and his future role as Treasury Secretary. This was a vital position, as the newly formed country’s economy was poor and faced many issues in collecting taxes, trading with other nations, and uniting the states to create interstate commerce.

This is also the second time that Hamilton has mistakenly used one word for America when intending another. Here, he calls the state of New York a “colony,” while in “My Shot” he calls what was then a collection of colonies a “country.” Still, worth it for that internal assonance!

One of several allusions throughout Act I, first occurring in “My Shot” to Hamilton’s interest in economics and his future role as Treasury Secretary. This was a vital position, as the newly formed country’s economy was poor and faced many issues in collecting taxes, trading with other nations, and uniting the states to create interstate commerce.

This is also the second time that Hamilton has mistakenly used one word for America when intending another. Here, he calls the state of New York a “colony,” while in “My Shot” he calls what was then a collection of colonies a “country.” Still, worth it for that internal assonance!

We all know that practice makes perfect. Hamilton plays off two meanings of “practice” at once: enacting a skill (as in “practicing law”), and repetition for improvement (as in “practice the piano”).

Guess that makes him practically perfect.

Hamilton was indeed a gifted student of the law and legislative writer. As discussed later in this song, his brainchild, The Federalist, is the most frequently cited document in the history of the Supreme Court. And the policy that he crafted was also ironclad. Jefferson would try to dismantle his work after his death, and ultimately fail (see “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story”).

All in all, Hamilton had pretty good reason to be confident in his abilities, the smug bastard.

Hamilton, though practical rather than idealistic in foreign policy, had a keen sense of justice and worked hard to right wrongs.

In his legal career, he took on unpopular cases if he believed the defendants were in the right. Most famously, he defended Tories that were sued by New York patriots using an unconstitutional law. Similarly, he stood behind his unpopular policy positions by invoking justice.

Additionally, Hamilton made a number of sacrifices to help those who were in distress through no fault of their own. He and Eliza took in “strays and waifs” including the orphaned goddaughter Fanny Antil, their orphaned nephew Philip Schuyler, and the imprisoned Lafayette’s son Georges.

An echo of Inspectah Deck’s famous lines in Wu-Tang’s “Triumph.” While the lines aren’t identical, it’s a clear homage.

I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses
Can’t define how I be dropping these mockeries"

There’s a similar rhyme used in the musical Wicked:

I never saw myself as a Solomon or Socrates.
I knew who I was, one of your dime-a-dozen mediocrities

Hamilton was definitely a reader of Plato and familiar with Socrates' arguments. In Federalist No. 55 (which examines the ideal size of the House of Representatives) it states: “Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian assembly would still have been a mob,” suggesting that large assemblies often turn into shouting matches, even among groups of very high-calibre people.

Socrates famously described himself as a gadfly, constantly vexing the people of Athens to stir them out of complacency and ignorance. If Hamilton doesn’t get his way, he’s willing to play the gadfly, using his rhetorical skill to vex his opponents.

Like Hamilton, Socrates' strong personality and stubborn idealism eventually got him in trouble. Having made too many enemies, he was put on trial on charges of “impiety” and “corrupting the youth.” Socrates refused to plead guilty or pander to the jury), and upon being sentenced to death, [declines an opportunity to escape prison and flee Athens], choosing instead to accept his sentence and drink the hemlock.

An echo of Inspectah Deck’s famous lines in Wu-Tang’s “Triumph.” While the lines aren’t identical, it’s a clear homage.

I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses
Can’t define how I be dropping these mockeries"

There’s a similar rhyme used in the musical Wicked:

I never saw myself as a Solomon or Socrates.
I knew who I was, one of your dime-a-dozen mediocrities

Hamilton was definitely a reader of Plato and familiar with Socrates' arguments. In Federalist No. 55 (which examines the ideal size of the House of Representatives) it states: “Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian assembly would still have been a mob,” suggesting that large assemblies often turn into shouting matches, even among groups of very high-calibre people.

Socrates famously described himself as a gadfly, constantly vexing the people of Athens to stir them out of complacency and ignorance. If Hamilton doesn’t get his way, he’s willing to play the gadfly, using his rhetorical skill to vex his opponents.

Like Hamilton, Socrates' strong personality and stubborn idealism eventually got him in trouble. Having made too many enemies, he was put on trial on charges of “impiety” and “corrupting the youth.” Socrates refused to plead guilty or pander to the jury), and upon being sentenced to death, [declines an opportunity to escape prison and flee Athens], choosing instead to accept his sentence and drink the hemlock.

The Constitutional Convention took place from May 14 to September 17, 1787 in Philadelphia. Although the original purpose of the convention was to revise the Articles of Confederation which had governed America since independence, many delegates, including Hamilton, sought to establish a new government rather than fix the old one. The result was the creation of the United States Constitution.

Hamilton is depicted among the delegates in Scene at the Signing of the Constitution of the United States, a famous oil painting by Howard Chandler Christy, created in 1940. He can be found in the middle of the painting, leaning over the shoulder of an aging Ben Franklin.

Spoken like a kid in a candy store.

Amongst a litany of notable one-liners and tonal characterizations, this is hands down one of the best. You can feel his excitement and giddiness at this occurrence in how he says this line!

However, he shouldn’t be so surprised. He was one of the leading figures calling for the creation of the convention, and he was a delegate to the Annapolis Convention that authorized it.

Hamilton was one of three New York delegates. The other two, John Lansing Jr. and Robert Yates, opposed the final draft of the Constitution and did not sign it, leaving Hamilton as the only New Yorker to sign the document.

In “The Summer of 1787,” David O. Stewart notes that Hamilton’s position as the sole New Yorker standing left him in a curious position – he didn’t have any legal authority to act on behalf of the delegation, or to sign the finished document. As a result, George Washington (wryly?) noted that the Constitution was signed by “11 states and Col. Hamilton.”

Before this, Hamilton was the leader of the Annapolis Convention. A group of delegates from New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Virginia got together and said that the Articles of Confederation needed to be fixed. The Articles of Confederation was kind of like a Constitution but it didn’t form a unified national government. It just set some basic national rules. The delegates sent a letter to the Congress asking for a Constitutional Convention with all the states represented, and they got one, except for Rhode Island. They boycotted the convention and initially refused to ratify the Constitution.
And at the Constitutional Convention, Hamilton actually wrote his own draft of a Constitution. It was somewhat similar to Madison’s, which is our Constitution, but it had some different rules for the President and Senators. For instance, the President would be elected but would serve for life. He could be impeached, though. Hamilton was seen as a supporter of the English government system and it was said that he wanted to create a monarchy in America. Hamilton did believe that the English government was the best in the world at that time, he said his government wouldn’t be a monarchy because the President was voted in and he could be impeached.

Hamilton came onto the Constitutional Convention scene just as he’s portrayed in the show, a young and somewhat cocky upstart. He shook up the current belief with his proposition and made a lot of enemies just from this.

Wording may be influenced by the famous tongue twister ditty, “Moses Supposes,” from Singin' in the Rain.

The rhyme scheme sets us up to think that ‘government’ is going to lead to ‘the convention is lovin’ it' – but we get casually shot down with ‘listless’. And Hamilton’s speech went over like a lead balloon.

In essence, Hamilton hoped the United States would become an “aristocratic, strongly centralized, coercive, but representative union, with devices to give weight to the influence of class and property.”

But to be fair to everyone else at the Convention, the details of this plan were pretty extreme. He thought all elected officials should serve “during good behavior,” i.e. indefinitely, essentially creating a government powered by a centralized and elite class of bureaucrats. He also cited the British government as “the best in the world.” Madison flat-out called his idea for a life-term president an “elective-monarch.”

There is some speculation that Hamilton proposed his plan to make Madison’s plan more moderate by comparison.

However, Hamilton stuck by the “during good behavior” model, and no particular rules against it were written into the constitution. This is why Hamilton is so shocked when Washington decides to step down in “One Last Time.” Until that point, it was still widely expected that the American president might continue to pursue re-election until his death. Washington’s decision set the precedent for two presidential terms, though this did not become law until the end of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s presidency, a century and a half later).

Hamilton also did indeed talk for 6 hours straight. Chernow describes the event:

For those who knew Hamilton, his generally passive behavior during the first three weeks was mystifying. He had never been known to hug the sidelines. As the convention split over the Virginia and New Jersey plans, Hamilton stayed conspicuously aloof from both camps.
It was predictable that when the wordy Hamilton broke silence, he would do so at epic length. Faced with a deadlock between large and small states, he decided to broach a more radical plan. On Monday morning, June 18, the thirty-two-year-old prodigy rose first on the convention floor and in the stifling, poorly ventilated room he spoke and spoke and spoke. Before the day was through, he had given a six-hour speech (no break for lunch) that was brilliant, courageous, and, in retrospect, completely daft.

The rhyme scheme sets us up to think that ‘government’ is going to lead to ‘the convention is lovin’ it' – but we get casually shot down with ‘listless’. And Hamilton’s speech went over like a lead balloon.

In essence, Hamilton hoped the United States would become an “aristocratic, strongly centralized, coercive, but representative union, with devices to give weight to the influence of class and property.”

But to be fair to everyone else at the Convention, the details of this plan were pretty extreme. He thought all elected officials should serve “during good behavior,” i.e. indefinitely, essentially creating a government powered by a centralized and elite class of bureaucrats. He also cited the British government as “the best in the world.” Madison flat-out called his idea for a life-term president an “elective-monarch.”

There is some speculation that Hamilton proposed his plan to make Madison’s plan more moderate by comparison.

However, Hamilton stuck by the “during good behavior” model, and no particular rules against it were written into the constitution. This is why Hamilton is so shocked when Washington decides to step down in “One Last Time.” Until that point, it was still widely expected that the American president might continue to pursue re-election until his death. Washington’s decision set the precedent for two presidential terms, though this did not become law until the end of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s presidency, a century and a half later).

Hamilton also did indeed talk for 6 hours straight. Chernow describes the event:

For those who knew Hamilton, his generally passive behavior during the first three weeks was mystifying. He had never been known to hug the sidelines. As the convention split over the Virginia and New Jersey plans, Hamilton stayed conspicuously aloof from both camps.
It was predictable that when the wordy Hamilton broke silence, he would do so at epic length. Faced with a deadlock between large and small states, he decided to broach a more radical plan. On Monday morning, June 18, the thirty-two-year-old prodigy rose first on the convention floor and in the stifling, poorly ventilated room he spoke and spoke and spoke. Before the day was through, he had given a six-hour speech (no break for lunch) that was brilliant, courageous, and, in retrospect, completely daft.

Hamilton’s birth year is disputed as 1755 (as established by Ron Chernow) or 1757. Regardless, he was one of the younger delegates and thus less prominent than heavy hitters in attendance like Ben Franklin, George Mason, or George Washington. Only six delegates were younger than Hamilton: Charles Pinckney, Jonathan Dayton, William Houstoun, William Davie, John Mercer (not related to that Mercer), and Richard Spaight (who was also killed in a duel with an opposing politician).

This serves as another example where era-appropriate language is juxtaposed with modern-day tone and slang, specifically hip-hop.

Again highlighting the contrast between Hamilton’s freely expressed beliefs and opinions and Burr’s “don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for” philosophy.

This could foreshadow Hamilton’s later publications such as his Adams letter, and “The Reynolds Pamphlet,” in which Hamilton’s writing leads to his political career being ruined.

This line definitely betrays the narrative trajectory of the show: Hamilton’s pamphlets during the war helping his career when the colonists were all allied and fighting together for the same cause (and were all in the same hot water re: treason against England), but after the war, his pamphlets became more and more of a liability as his enemies crept closer to home.

Moreover, it also foreshadows their later duel in “The World Was Wide Enough”: Hamilton’s proclamation of support for Jefferson directly leads to the duel. Burr accurately predicts that Hamilton’s proclamations will cause others to aim ammunition at him; the only thing Burr doesn’t recognize is who will be loading the musket.

This section echoes the beginning of “Aaron Burr, Sir.” This structure, which has a character (usually Hamilton) declaring another’s name followed by a rest, will recur in Act 2 for songs that feature private political conversations. These include “The Room Where It Happens,” “One Last Time,” and “We Know.”

The fact that Alexander shows up in the middle of the night to confer with Burr is very demonstrative of his character and the fact that his mind never stops spinning. And also it’s funny to think about Aaron Burr answering the door in his pajamas to a too-awake-for-this-time-of-night Hamilton.

Instead of asking whether or not Hamilton is okay, or if anything has happened with his family, he suggests that the only reason Alexander would show up at his house in the middle of the night is on urgent business related to their jobs.

This seems to suggest that the relationship between Hamilton and Burr has deteriorated somewhat since the end of the war, that it has lost some of its more brotherly aspects of friendship and trust.

From The Memoirs of Aaron Burr:

During this period he continued to practise the law. He was in that class of his profession to which belonged a Hamilton, a Harrison, and a Livingston. The partiality of some of his friends may have placed him at the head of the bar. His opponents ranked him second only to their particular favourite. As a speaker, Colonel Burr was calm and persuasive. He was most remarkable for the power which he possessed of condensation. His appeals, whether to a court or a jury, were sententious and lucid. His speeches, generally, were argumentative, short, and pithy. No flights of fancy, no metaphors, no parade of impassioned sentences, are to be found in them. When employed on the same side of a cause with General Hamilton, it was his uniform practice to permit that gentleman to select his own place in the cause.

Chernow highlights this comment from Hamilton on Burr: “His address was pleasing, his manners were more – they were fascinating. When I analyzed his arguments, I could never discern in what his greatness consisted.”

No argument from Burr here… You can hear the smile in his voice and imagine his ego growing as Hamilton continues to compliment Burr while berating himself.

This is a great example of Burr’s “wait and see” strategy. Hamilton is obviously after something so Burr merely acknowledges the compliment while waiting for Hamilton to get to the catch.

Another reflection from 1776, where John Adams sings:

Whereas if I’m the one to do it
They’ll run their quill pens through it
I’m obnoxious and disliked, you know that, sir"

From The Memoirs of Aaron Burr:

During this period he continued to practise the law. He was in that class of his profession to which belonged a Hamilton, a Harrison, and a Livingston. The partiality of some of his friends may have placed him at the head of the bar. His opponents ranked him second only to their particular favourite. As a speaker, Colonel Burr was calm and persuasive. He was most remarkable for the power which he possessed of condensation. His appeals, whether to a court or a jury, were sententious and lucid. His speeches, generally, were argumentative, short, and pithy. No flights of fancy, no metaphors, no parade of impassioned sentences, are to be found in them. When employed on the same side of a cause with General Hamilton, it was his uniform practice to permit that gentleman to select his own place in the cause.

Chernow highlights this comment from Hamilton on Burr: “His address was pleasing, his manners were more – they were fascinating. When I analyzed his arguments, I could never discern in what his greatness consisted.”

In real life, there isn’t evidence that Hamilton asked Burr to assist in writing the Federalist Papers. However, Hamilton did invite and was rejected by several other prominent men, including Gouverneur Morris and William Duer.

Approval of the Constitution was by no means a sure thing.

The convention had originally been meant to simply amend the Articles of Confederation and many delegates (and members of the public) were none too happy that the convention instead proposed a whole new Constitution.

Hamilton was selected as a junior delegate, but ended up being the only delegate from New York to sign. The others, John Lansing, Jr. and Robert Yates walked out in protest.

A lot of prominent revolutionary figures such as Patrick Henry were against the Constitution. They began publicly challenging the Constitution from the moment it was signed, and many of the Federalist papers were directed specifically to counter the arguments in anti-Federalist writings.

Early in the show’s run, Hamilton’s sheepish delivery of the question betrays how he expects no support from Burr. Miranda’s delivery of this line was significantly more confident and excited in later live performances of the show, waving a hand in the air as if miming a banner reading “The New U.S. Constitution!”

Contemporary reaction to this series of essays—“The Federalist,” as it was called when published collectively under the pen name Publius—was certainly mixed:

One critic wrote that, even if he could acquire the essays for free, “it is not worth it.” Another said the mass of writings would “jade the brains of any poor sinner,” and asked Publius to halt after 26 essays “and let the people draw their breath for a little.” Even the printer of the bound volume griped that he had hundreds of unsold copies and would be lucky to make five pounds profit. … But George Washington believed The Federalist would “merit the Notice of Posterity.”

Good old George. He got it in one. As a contemporary explanation of the intent behind the Constitution’s articles, its worth has only increased with time. It is now the most valuable body of work America has regarding the interpretation of constitutional law. The Papers are frequently taught in today’s high school history and government classes. Moreover,

Since its creation, the Supreme Court has cited or quoted The Federalist about 300 times, more than any other interpretative document.

Burr references the constitution as a whole; he’s worrying about his reputation if it got out that he supported something that fell through.

Hamilton, though, references the constitution getting off the ground in the first place. He has no doubt the constitution will be a success, so long as enough people support it (“We have to start somewhere,” 5 lines later).

This misunderstanding stems from their different ways of thinking: Burr is cautious, worrying about worst-case scenarios; Hamilton rushes into things, always believing he’s in the right.

Ratification of the US Constitution was not a smooth process, and required amendments. In order to make the document more palatable to the Anti-Federalists, the first ten amendments (the Bill of Rights) were written by James Madison around this time, as a measure of limiting governmental power. In life, Hamilton actually opposed the Bill of Rights, arguing in “The Federalist (no. 84)” that the Constitution contained such provisions on its own.

This likely refers to the tension among the Founding Fathers over slavery. “Independence” from Britain did not equate to freedom for all Americans.

PROPOSED SUGGESTION: A firm believer in abolition, Hamilton likely thought that the inclusion of slavery in the Constitution (Art. 1 s.2, Art. 1 s.9 c.1, Art. 4 s.2, Art. 5) was contradictory to the ideals of liberty. However, Burr was a slaveholder who only associated (and marginally) with the New York abolitionist movement when he was ostracized from the Democratic Republicans and was feeling out how much support he might be able to get from the Federalists. Burr’s will, made in preparation for the possibility of his death in the fateful duel with Hamilton, per Chernow, indicates that he did not care what happened to the vast majority of them in the event that he died, save a few who he would bequeath to his daughter Theodosia. Burr did not intend to free any of his slaves.

Thus, while Hamilton personally felt that slavery was wrong, and likely thought that it was inconsistent with the Constitution, the savvy lawyer he was would have known that such arguments would not be terribly persuasive to a slaveholder like Burr. Hamilton was professionally willing to table the issue of slavery under the Constitution, however reluctantly. He was not, however, willing to set aside his concerns over anarchy and mob rule; thus indicating that this was a superior concern to him.

According to Chernow, Hamilton was always and extremely concerned that both States and individuals would take their ideas of “independence” too far and fracture the nation to the point of anarchy. While underpowering the central government (like under the Articles of Confederation) had fewer governmental barriers on what the States and also the people could do, such a weak central government also was unable to enforce a united national front. This was most obviously seen, particularly to Hamilton, in money matters; from the abominable management of interstate commerce which gave rise to the Annapolis and later Philadelphia Constitutional conventions, to the inability of the central government to do something as simple as pay the wages of Revolution soldiers because the States did everything they could to avoid giving money and the central government had no power to require it. This fear was compounded by the bloodiness of the French Revolution, and the persistent romanticized support for France from the Democratic Republicans despite its grotesque acts.

It must be remembered that the U.S. paranoia over tyrannical monarchs (despite the fact that these people tended to support France over England, yet France was notoriously more despotic, persisting and culminating in John Wilkes Booth’s “sic semper tyrannis”) had the nation teetering on nearly exclusive Legislative control with merely a figurehead executive. Functionally, this system would be hardly different than the Articles of Confederation, which lacked an Executive branch altogether. A more agrarian nation, many people were so upset at the abuses of authority under England that they opposed any form of central authority. This view bounces from one extreme, all authority in one set of hands, to the other – no enforceable centralized authority. The middle road which the U.S. still uses, centralized authority which is limited and divided, was not even considered by such demagogues. In the historical context, Hamilton was fighting to prevent the Executive branch from becoming subordinate to the Legislative branch (as opposed to the supremacy of the Executive over the Legislative, however much Hamilton might have liked to see that, per Chernow).

To Hamilton, the lack of a barrier on doing an act was only an illusory freedom unless there was also the administrative infrastructure to empower action on that freedom. Hence, Hamilton’s constant efforts to centralize and consolidate power in the national government, and particularly in the Executive branch. Without a centralized authority over the States, the nation would be unable to actually enforce any of these freedoms. While the idea of subservience to a national government is not absolute independence, the lack of infrastructure from being completely isolated and not in some way dependent on the community makes it impossible to have any chance at societal growth or mobility.

Thus, Hamilton’s point is that the additional restrictions a powerful central government puts on the States actually makes the nation less dependent on foreign powers, and less vulnerable to internal infighting than a loosely bound quilt of coequal States with competing interests.

Burr definitely isn’t taking Hamilton seriously.
Then again, if your over-passionate co-worker showed up at your house in the middle of the night asking you to help him defend the constitution, you might be a little skeptical too.

Call backs to Laurens' line in “Aaron Burr, Sir,” and Hamilton’s in “The Story Of Tonight (Reprise),” reminding us that, even though we know that Burr is waiting for it, we still don’t know what the “it” he’s waiting for actually is.

The rhyme also recalls Hamilton’s initial challenge to Burr: “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”

It also reiterates the strong contrast between Hamilton’s take charge style and Burr’s more calculating tactics.

Hamilton is baffled by Burr’s reluctance to help him defend the constitution. He does not understand why Burr would fight in a revolution for America’s independence, then take no interest in shaping the country they fought to create.

Miranda takes a reasonable amount of artistic license throughout the musical, but this is one of only a few instances where the written lyrics are categorically false. In fact, Burr was an antifederalist according to Chernow, though by no means a vocal one. The antifederalists actively opposed ratification of the Constitution.

Hamilton has to ask, considering Burr’s “talk less” attitude. As Hamilton says in “Schuyler Defeated”: “No one knows who you are or what you do.” But Burr usually tells people what he thinks they want to hear—and Hamilton wants him to support the Constitution. So this is not necessarily the truth.

Combined with Hamilton’s line above, Miranda seems to be alluding to the oath of office for the United States Senate:

“I, AB, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

Perhaps foreshadowing Burr’s election to the Senate, or just Hamilton poking fun at Burr for his obvious political ambitions?

However, if this is an allusion to the above oath, it is an anachronism. The original oath of office for the Senate, enacted in 1789 by the First Congress, simply read, “I, A.B. do solemnly swear or affirm (as the case may be) that I will support the Constitution of the United States.” It wasn’t until after the Civil War that oaths were made more specific, for obvious reasons. The longer oath quoted above wasn’t enacted until 1884, with a minor change in 1966.

You can read a more detailed history here.

Burr is questioning whether supporting the Constitution is the right decision (or bet à la horse racing) to make.

This is a possible reference to the response the Priest sings to Judas in the Jesus Christ Superstar song, Judas' Death. Burr is often compared to Judas as both serve as the narrator and antihero in their respective plays. In JCS, Judas is expressing remorse for what ends up being his downfall, his betrayal of Jesus. The Priest unsuccessfully tries to console him stating, “The mob turned against him – you backed the right horse.” Judas ends up hanging himself at the end of the song.

Here Burr’s words follow the theme that runs throughout Hamilton, his fear of taking a stand that could lead to his downfall, in this case openly supporting the U.S. Constitution.

Hamilton is baffled by Burr’s reluctance to help him defend the constitution. He does not understand why Burr would fight in a revolution for America’s independence, then take no interest in shaping the country they fought to create.

Once again, Hamilton and Burr simply don’t understand each other. Burr’s “talk less/smile more” confounds Hamilton while Hamilton’s willingness to commit without knowing for sure that he’s right confuses Burr.

The repetition of “stand” here also plays with how many ways the word plays metaphorically in English. “Taking a stand” and “standing to the side” have almost opposite meanings despite sharing the verb: the former, an assertion of oneself, implicitly standing in front of an oncoming onslaught; the latter, a diminishment of oneself, standing out of the way. Even the word “understand” itself seems to have arrived in English by way of metaphor for standing among ideas. So in this one couplet we see how important it is not only that you stand, but where.

Stating that he will “keep all my plans close to my chest” reiterates the same “Talk Less, Smile More” notion we are presented with in “Aaron Burr, Sir,” where he says “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

“I’ll wait here and see which way the wind will blow. I’m taking my time” is a reference to Burr’s “Wait For It” motif, which is echoed by the ensemble. As Burr said in “Aaron Burr, Sir,” he prefers to sit back and watch what unfolds before taking action, always remaining cautious.

This is a callback to “Wait For It”, the song where Burr’s patience is first introduced, but when a background singer in Hamilton says “wait for it”, it’s never just a callback to “Wait For It”. Here, it tells the audience that they should wait to see Burr’s plans revealed after the intermission.

Stating that he will “keep all my plans close to my chest” reiterates the same “Talk Less, Smile More” notion we are presented with in “Aaron Burr, Sir,” where he says “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

“I’ll wait here and see which way the wind will blow. I’m taking my time” is a reference to Burr’s “Wait For It” motif, which is echoed by the ensemble. As Burr said in “Aaron Burr, Sir,” he prefers to sit back and watch what unfolds before taking action, always remaining cautious.

This moment recalls Dot’s departure to America near the end of Act I in Sunday in the Park with George. Both Angelica and Dot marry men who will support them but with whom they are not in love, as we learn in Dot’s bitter song, “Everybody Loves Louis.”

This verse features the return of Angelica’s melody from “Satisfied” (“I remember that night…” all the way through to “but Alexander”) in a slightly slower, more reflective tempo and with a gentler, piano-heavy arrangement. There is no question as to the reality of Angelica’s feelings even as she sings of her marriage.

Historically, Angelica courted and eloped with John Barker Church all the way back in 1777. Specifically, they married without her father’s consent because he was suspicious of Church. The man was a British expatriate who had quit the country for reasons unknown (gossip thought he had may have had an unhappy love affair, killed someone in a duel, or fled gambling debts). However badly off he might have been to start with though, he soon amassed a fortune through speculation and investment in the nascent country. His job supplying the Americans troops as Commissioner of Accounts during the war may have given him an advantage in these financial maneuvers. At one point he was actually under audit by the Continental Congress. Clearly, he didn’t make many friends, but he did cultivate a crowd of business associates, many of them prominent revolutionaries, including Hamilton.

Chernow agrees with Angelica’s assessment: Church was really not a lot of fun:

Church’s letters present a cold businessman, devoid of warmth or humor…. One observer described him as “vengeful and false”…. Church said he wanted to cut off the heads of British generals and “to pickle them and put them in small barrels, and as often as the English should again burn a village to send them one [of] these barrels.”

What a charmer!

Still, despite her father’s disapproval, Angelica fulfilled the family obligations she outlined in “Satisfied”: she married someone with wealth and status, a prominent businessman under whose protection she would see and delight the highest social circles of three different countries. The couple left for Europe in 1783 when Church was appointed as a US Envoy to the French government.

Angelica was right about Alexander, too. He never was financially stable. He also speculated and invested, but with less success, and he habitually bought on credit instead of paying, accumulating vast amounts of debt that Eliza would have to scramble to pay back in her widowhood.

Perhaps no man can match him for turn of phrase, but we know a woman who can… Recall “Satisfied,” where Angelica proves that she herself is on his level (“So this is what it feels like to match wits / With someone at your level”). In other words, there’s really no one who can match her for turn of phrase—except the already-taken Hamilton, forcing her to settle for some other man.

Although both are married, Angelica still yearns for Alexander. The fondness in her delivery betrays that she will always love him, whether it be sisterly or romantically. The tune and meaning of this line echo Angelica’s line from “Satisfied” (“But Alexander…”).

In “Satisfied,” Angelica also displays a sense of possession of Alexander as “hers” when she sings “He’d be mine”. Eliza’s displays a similar possessiveness in her initial reaction to meeting Alexander (“Grab my sister, and whisper, “Yo, this one’s mine”) and her triumphant declaration following their engagement (“That boy is mine”).

Hamilton sings her name as she did during her introduction in “The Schuyler Sisters.” This continues the show’s habit of singing characters’s names in the style of their introductory song.

This line doesn’t rhyme with the rest of Angelica’s verse, and there’s a significant pause before she says it. Whatever she actually meant to say, it’s not this. The text tells us that Angelica is holding back.

Honestly, if there’s one thing Hamilton won’t forget to do, as the rest of the song makes abundantly clear, it’s write. So basically, Angelica said the least convincing and most obvious thing possible to replace her intended words.

Alternatively, the “days” rhyme of the above was also used for Angelica’s recollections of the night she fell in love with Alexander and recalls those feelings from “Satisfied,” so here, she cuts off the rhyme and resolves to make a fresh start.

Musically, the phrase dovetails straight into Eliza’s verse, aligning her more with her sister than with Alexander, indicating she is once again choosing her sister over herself, and foreshadowing the fact that she will support her over Alexander in the wake of “The Reynolds Pamphlet.”

Eliza’s verse is a reprise of the “That Would Be Enough” theme, but played faster, and the way Eliza sings it is harried and unsatisfied. Musically, she is literally rushing to try to keep up with Alexander’s “Non-Stop” pace.

The way she phrases “Would that be enough?” as a question, rather than the statement “That would be enough,” is indicative of how much Alexander’s “non-stop” pace has steamrolled over her and her desires. Insecure, and only asking for a fraction of his time, she’s reduced to asking him what she could do to “be enough.” Moreover, Hamilton’s relentless drive is strong enough that even if she could grant him peace of mind, she’s not certain that even that would be enough.

These lines also foreshadow Eliza’s own future. “Just stay alive” foreshadows Hamilton’s untimely death, and “if your wife could share a fraction of your time” is ironic, as Eliza ends up outliving Hamilton by almost 50 years. In the end, Eliza was the one writing about Hamilton, mainly to grant herself “peace of mind.”

While Eliza is rushing to keep up, Angelica flawlessly executes her moment. When generously counting, Angelica has a few seconds longer (3 or 4 counting the dramatic pauses, Hamilton’s response, and the held-out “write”) than Eliza; Angelica effortlessly manages six more words than Eliza without the slightest hint of rushing.

This musically reinforces how Angelica can mentally and literally keep up with Alexander’s non-stop pace with ease, (as previously seen in “Satisfied”) while Eliza is trailing behind with a notable lack of confidence.

True story, bro. Well, almost. Hamilton and Madison collaborated on a few, muddying the exact numbers. Overall, the Federalist Papers were written between October 1787 and June 1788, coming it at nearly 175,000 words in total, and spawned an entire political party, fittingly named the Federalists.

The Federalist essays appeared up to four times a week, the printer often pacing the hall outside while Hamilton finished up his latest salvo. Regardless of who composed them, the essays appeared under the pen name Publius, in homage to the man who had led the people of Rome in establishing a republic after they overthrew their king.

The essays began by enumerating the weaknesses of the Articles of Confederation, and then introduced the strengths of the centralized government outlined in the Constitution. Hamilton, happily in his wheelhouse at that point, wrote all the essays about the executive and judicial branches.

Hamilton also wrote the last essay, “Concluding Remarks.” Sure, he said, the Constitution wasn’t perfect, but

A NATION, without a NATIONAL GOVERNMENT, is, in my view, an awful spectacle.

This speech is one of the longest passages of spoken dialogue in the mostly sung/rapped-through show. The only other passages of any length are Washington’s spoken introductions to the two Cabinet Battles and the scene in which Alexander receives news of John Lauren’s death, which is not included on the cast album.

After Hamilton and co. complete the Federalist Papers Burr changes his line from “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” to “How do write like you’re running out of time?”

This suggests a minor turning point for Burr as he marvels at Hamilton and is perhaps envious of his skills, dedication, and resultant quick ascension as a legal powerhouse.

While Burr’s melody accents the first note, then stays steady, the women’s “Running out of time” rises in pitch, giving the impression that they’re rushing to keep up with Hamilton. These lines also function as Hamilton’s internal monologue—he’s rushing because he truly feels like he is running out of time. We also resume the underscore of driving drums that accents the whole piece here.

After Hamilton and co. complete the Federalist Papers Burr changes his line from “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” to “How do write like you’re running out of time?”

This suggests a minor turning point for Burr as he marvels at Hamilton and is perhaps envious of his skills, dedication, and resultant quick ascension as a legal powerhouse.

While Burr’s melody accents the first note, then stays steady, the women’s “Running out of time” rises in pitch, giving the impression that they’re rushing to keep up with Hamilton. These lines also function as Hamilton’s internal monologue—he’s rushing because he truly feels like he is running out of time. We also resume the underscore of driving drums that accents the whole piece here.

This lines alludes to Hamilton’s hyper-awareness of his own mortality, his belief that death “feels more like a memory,” and speaks to his motivation to write so much in such a short period of time.

This phrase also implies that Burr is slightly hopeful that Hamilton could be running out of time, that he is waiting for his death in the same way that he waited for Theodosia’s husband to die to go get her.

Burr will eventually answer his own question: Hamilton was indeed ‘running out of time’—as they sing, his death at Burr’s hands in “The World Was Wide Enough” is barreling toward the characters and the audience.

Hamilton uses his writing as a way to find purchase and meaning in his life, as is noted in “Hurricane.” He uses his writing as a way to change the world, but he also uses it as a way to find his place in it.

Washington’s verse is an uptempo version of his earlier song, “History Has Its Eyes On You.”

Hamilton was part of this group insisting Washington take office. Chernow (p270) writes that Hamilton took it upon himself to “woo” Washington.

Long ago, he had hitched his career to the general’s, and he needed Washington as president no less than America did.

Along with a copy of The Federalist Papers, Hamilton sent Washington a letter, telling Washington introducing a system was pointless “if the weightiest influence is not given to its firm establishment in the outset.”

Washington told Hamilton he’d rather stay at Mount Vernon. But Hamilton, never one to give up, replied with:

No other man can sufficiently unite the public opinion or can give the requisite weight to the office in the commencement of the government.

Smooth.

Washington was hearing this from others as well, so he finally gave in.

Hamilton took it upon himself to antagonize John Adams, who was running for vice president.

Even though Washington was the clear frontrunner, Hamilton was so worried Adams would walk away with the presidency (since electors didn’t vote for the positions separately).

Chernow (p272) writes:

Hamilton fretted that whether by chance or design Adams might sneak past Washington in the voting. So he approached two electors in Connecticut, two in New Jersey, and three or four in Pennsylvania and asked them to deny their votes to Adams to insure that Washington became president. As usual, Hamilton proved excessively fearful. When the sixty-nine electors met on February 4, 1789, they voted unanimously for Washington, who became the first president, and cast only thirty-four ballots for Adams, who came in second and thus became vice president.

George Washington was sworn in as the first President of the United States on April 30, 1789.

One of the more important parts of the presidential branch of the United States is the Cabinet. Originally created by George Washington in his first four years in office, the Cabinet originally just had four members in office (two of those members being Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson). Washington didn’t have all of the knowledge in the world when it came to presidential topics, so he sought advisors to help run the first long-term part of the American experiment. That’s where Hamilton’s knowledge came to play.

Washington clearly has a speech all prepared to convince Hamilton. The music in this sequence is from “History Has Its Eyes On You,” which probably was another prepared speech. This time Hamilton is way ahead of him, though it takes Washington a minute to realize it.

Washington approaches Hamilton expecting to have to convince him to come work in his administration because that’s simply how it’s done in their time. Most contemporary politicians would at least put on the pretense of lacking ambition (look at Jefferson–“oh, it’s so lovely to be in Monticello I’ll never leave. Oh, wait, here’s a letter–look, I’m so fabulous they need me to run the country. Oh, I’ll miss home, but the people need me.”)

Washington truly was deliberate, considered, and deeply ambivalent about power. He had a healthy fear of making mistakes, and he had endless financial problems that were exacerbated by his public service. He always had to be reluctantly dragged into service (or, perhaps more accurately, always needed to be seen as being reluctantly dragged into service).

All Hamilton had to do was a polite two-step: he expresses reluctance, Washington presses, he accepts. But he didn’t! He’s such a nakedly ambitious and arrogant upstart. He has zero self-doubt about what he would do in either of the two most important cabinet positions–each of which requires him to be expert in totally different policy areas! And he also doesn’t observe the social niceties of pretending he’s not interested in power. He lurrrrves power. (Interestingly, Burr does the same thing when he openly campaigns for office–violates social norms to further his ambition.)

Hamilton, of course, ran the Treasury, while Jefferson was Secretary of State. This back and forth asking Washington to pick one foreshadows the tempestuous relationship they will have in the cabinet, with George Washington constantly being asked to choose between them and their competing policies. So of course Washington also chooses Treasury here.

Hamilton took office as the first Secretary of the Treasury on September 11, 1789.

Thomas Jefferson wrote about what he thought was happening at home in terms of cabinet positions while still in Paris:

Bills were brought in for establishing departments of Foreign affairs, Finance and War. The last would certainly be given to Genl. Knox. Mr. Jay would probably have his choice of the 1st. and 2d. and it was supposed Hamilton would have that which Mr. Jay declined.“
—Jefferson to William Carmichael on August 9, 1789.

Hamilton reacts to being placed in the Treasury Department with boyish excitement, knowing that he is finally getting his shot to implement his longstanding ideas for how to handle the nation’s “financial situation”—namely the historic financial plan he later proposes.

Indeed, as noted by Chernow, Hamilton wrote the following in a 1797 letter to his uncle:

I did not hesitate to accept the offer of President Washington to undertake the office of Secretary of the Treasury.

At this point, New York City was the seat of the US government and Hamilton could live at his home. So don’t worry, Eliza, he’ll be back for dinner!

Three times Eliza tries to talk to him, but only manages one-word responses before Hamilton interrupts her with a comparatively lengthy phrase. Though he gave Washington the same treatment, he let him talk longer than he lets Eliza. The reason for this is telling of Hamilton’s priorities. Washington represents political power and work for Hamilton, while Eliza is domestic life. Repeatedly throughout the musical, we see him choosing work (political legacy) over home life (familial legacy). This tragic impulse will play a part in Hamilton’s personal downfall (his affair with Maria Reynolds), his political downfall (the Reynolds Pamphlet), and also his mortal downfall (choosing to duel with Aaron Burr).

Hamilton uses Eliza’s own words against her. This shows the force of Hamilton’s skill for argument (he can turn anyone’s opinions around to his way of seeing things), but it also reveals a ruthless quality of his that we haven’t really seen before. He means well here—he’s trying to make Eliza realize the tremendous historical moment he is seizing the opportunity to be a part of—but we’ll later see him cruelly mimic Burr’s themes, too, in “The Room Where It Happens.”

In addition, Alexander is trying to sing to the same tune as Eliza, instead of singing his own tune. However, it’s not the same tune Eliza’s singing right now, so husband and wife still aren’t singing the same song.

There’s a great deal of foreshadowing in this one line. Hamilton only feels “lucky … to be alive” when he’s thrust into an influential position, despite his wife’s repeated earlier pleadings that he acknowledge his other blessings—pleadings that were brushed aside and never acknowledged when he responded with questions about her pregnancy.

Later, in “Hurricane” and “The Reynolds Pamphlet,” we see this side of Hamilton once again. He values his job (and by his extension his legacy) above all else—he’s willing to use his great rhetorical powers to defend his professional honor (“At least I was honest with our money!”), to the exclusion and even detriment of his personal honor, not to mention his marriage. He doesn’t even seem to be aware of the disconnect.

In “Helpless,” Alexander swore that Eliza would never feel this way, but here we are. We didn’t even make it to Act II, Hamilton.

A reprisal of Washington’s line from a few moments ago.

Once again, the voracious wordsmith, Hamilton, uses someone else’s theme to bolster his own argument.

Eliza’s “that would be enough” theme morphs and bleeds into Angelica’s “satisfied” motif as she comes to understand more of what Angelica saw in Alexander the first time she met him.

Eliza’s theme was originally an expression of love: Hamilton only needs to stay by her side for her to be satisfied. In “Non-Stop,” she begins to realize that the same is emphatically not true for Hamilton, as he is never satisfied. His boundless ambition keeps him moving in ways that seem to take him further away from Eliza and from their home. Eliza asks “What would be enough [for you] to be satisfied?” hoping that Alexander will realize that taking the job as Treasury Secretary is not going to make him truly fulfilled, while she simultaneously betrays her new suspicion that nothing will, including herself.

Seeing Hamilton ignore his domestic commitments in favor of his political ambitions makes Eliza feel genuinely insecure, and unfortunately she’s got a right to. This whole musical argument foreshadows the even deeper marital discord that looms on their horizon.

Here, the song utilizes polyphony to bring the first act to a dramatic polyphonic close with five principal themes sung simultaneously. Alex Lacamoire refers to this as “the all-skate” or “Tonight” Quintet as he doesn’t know the technical term.

The section represents the different voices and their priorities in Hamilton’s mind. (They’re shown through different dynamics, which is quite a hidden pun!) Though Angelica starts the all skate, Washington’s voice is heard over all the others. Next comes Burr, Angelica, the public (represented by “All” in this transcription), and finally Eliza. Washington’s “History has it’s eyes on you” and offer takes priority over all, so on so forth. Eliza is the least of his concerns. But, trouble is brewing on the horizon and she is not to be so easily ignored.

• Angelica, “Satisfied”
• Eliza, “That Would Be Enough”
• Washington/Mulligan/Laurens/Lafayette, “History Has Its Eyes On You”
• Burr, “Why do you assume…” from “Non-Stop”
• Ensemble, “Non-Stop”

This technique is fairly common in musical theatre (see, for example, Les Misérables and West Side Story).

At the end, all the themes fall away to recapitulate Hamilton’s principal theme from “My Shot.”

Angelica has known since the beginning that Alex has a boundless ambition. He can’t ever be satisfied with what he has. This is her chiming in with Eliza as her sister discovers what she’s always suspected, and is seeing come true. Even after becoming Washington’s right hand man, gaining fame and valor as a general, marrying Eliza and having children, becoming a successful lawyer and helping to shape his new country, he’s not satisfied. He will keep going, and deep down, Angelica already suspects it’s going to destroy him.

Washington is standing at the top of one of the stair cases to that upper level of the set for the earlier exchange and at this point, for the first time in the show, the staircase is moved out from it’s stationary position at the side of the stage and Washington on his staircase is dramatically wheeled out while belting this line. The staircase is then positioned in the center and at the end of the song Hamilton climbs the stairs to stand by Washington in a literal and symbolic ascension to power.

Eliza’s “that would be enough” theme morphs and bleeds into Angelica’s “satisfied” motif as she comes to understand more of what Angelica saw in Alexander the first time she met him.

Eliza’s theme was originally an expression of love: Hamilton only needs to stay by her side for her to be satisfied. In “Non-Stop,” she begins to realize that the same is emphatically not true for Hamilton, as he is never satisfied. His boundless ambition keeps him moving in ways that seem to take him further away from Eliza and from their home. Eliza asks “What would be enough [for you] to be satisfied?” hoping that Alexander will realize that taking the job as Treasury Secretary is not going to make him truly fulfilled, while she simultaneously betrays her new suspicion that nothing will, including herself.

Seeing Hamilton ignore his domestic commitments in favor of his political ambitions makes Eliza feel genuinely insecure, and unfortunately she’s got a right to. This whole musical argument foreshadows the even deeper marital discord that looms on their horizon.

Washington is standing at the top of one of the stair cases to that upper level of the set for the earlier exchange and at this point, for the first time in the show, the staircase is moved out from it’s stationary position at the side of the stage and Washington on his staircase is dramatically wheeled out while belting this line. The staircase is then positioned in the center and at the end of the song Hamilton climbs the stairs to stand by Washington in a literal and symbolic ascension to power.

Eliza’s “that would be enough” theme morphs and bleeds into Angelica’s “satisfied” motif as she comes to understand more of what Angelica saw in Alexander the first time she met him.

Eliza’s theme was originally an expression of love: Hamilton only needs to stay by her side for her to be satisfied. In “Non-Stop,” she begins to realize that the same is emphatically not true for Hamilton, as he is never satisfied. His boundless ambition keeps him moving in ways that seem to take him further away from Eliza and from their home. Eliza asks “What would be enough [for you] to be satisfied?” hoping that Alexander will realize that taking the job as Treasury Secretary is not going to make him truly fulfilled, while she simultaneously betrays her new suspicion that nothing will, including herself.

Seeing Hamilton ignore his domestic commitments in favor of his political ambitions makes Eliza feel genuinely insecure, and unfortunately she’s got a right to. This whole musical argument foreshadows the even deeper marital discord that looms on their horizon.

Eliza’s “that would be enough” theme morphs and bleeds into Angelica’s “satisfied” motif as she comes to understand more of what Angelica saw in Alexander the first time she met him.

Eliza’s theme was originally an expression of love: Hamilton only needs to stay by her side for her to be satisfied. In “Non-Stop,” she begins to realize that the same is emphatically not true for Hamilton, as he is never satisfied. His boundless ambition keeps him moving in ways that seem to take him further away from Eliza and from their home. Eliza asks “What would be enough [for you] to be satisfied?” hoping that Alexander will realize that taking the job as Treasury Secretary is not going to make him truly fulfilled, while she simultaneously betrays her new suspicion that nothing will, including herself.

Seeing Hamilton ignore his domestic commitments in favor of his political ambitions makes Eliza feel genuinely insecure, and unfortunately she’s got a right to. This whole musical argument foreshadows the even deeper marital discord that looms on their horizon.

While the company slows down to sing this line, Hamilton jumps in right after singing the refrain which has taken him through the story. Hamilton’s raw ambition drives him away from those around him, like Macbeth, as alluded to in “Take a Break.”

Hamilton is refusing to stay behind like Eliza and Angelica wish. He refuses their help, his raw ambition to fight and prove himself beating the need to stay behind with his wife. The General needs him and he’s not about to throw away his shot.

This line is also an interesting inversion of Washington’s meaning behind the “History has its eyes on you” line. When Washington said it, it was meant to be a warning: that history will remember your mistakes. But here it’s treated as a motivation: Hamilton has the opportunity to make history, so he won’t throw away his shot at doing so.

While the company slows down to sing this line, Hamilton jumps in right after singing the refrain which has taken him through the story. Hamilton’s raw ambition drives him away from those around him, like Macbeth, as alluded to in “Take a Break.”

Hamilton is refusing to stay behind like Eliza and Angelica wish. He refuses their help, his raw ambition to fight and prove himself beating the need to stay behind with his wife. The General needs him and he’s not about to throw away his shot.

This line is also an interesting inversion of Washington’s meaning behind the “History has its eyes on you” line. When Washington said it, it was meant to be a warning: that history will remember your mistakes. But here it’s treated as a motivation: Hamilton has the opportunity to make history, so he won’t throw away his shot at doing so.

Throughout Act I, in “Alexander Hamilton” and “Satisfied,” “just you wait” is almost always sung by Hamilton himself, as a way saying ‘if you pay attention, I’ll show you what I can do.’ No other character sings it, only the company, in “Alexander Hamilton.”

In that song, they sing it to echo his ‘I’ statement—“There’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait”—literally lending body and weight to his own pronouncement. Here however, they chime in after him and pointedly don’t share the ‘I’ statement. The music takes on an element of tension when they all sing together.

The company is morphing into a Greek chorus, foreshadowing the turning tide of public opinion and Hamilton’s fall from grace in Act II. They’re also literally responding to Hamilton—‘You’re not throwing away your shot? Just you wait’— foreshadowing how Hamilton delopes (lit. throws away his shot) in his duel with Burr.

It’s also possibly another reference to musical theater history (as with “sit down, John” and “c'est moi,” among others). In this case, a reference to the famous song “Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait” from “My Fair Lady.”

Throughout Act I, in “Alexander Hamilton” and “Satisfied,” “just you wait” is almost always sung by Hamilton himself, as a way saying ‘if you pay attention, I’ll show you what I can do.’ No other character sings it, only the company, in “Alexander Hamilton.”

In that song, they sing it to echo his ‘I’ statement—“There’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait”—literally lending body and weight to his own pronouncement. Here however, they chime in after him and pointedly don’t share the ‘I’ statement. The music takes on an element of tension when they all sing together.

The company is morphing into a Greek chorus, foreshadowing the turning tide of public opinion and Hamilton’s fall from grace in Act II. They’re also literally responding to Hamilton—‘You’re not throwing away your shot? Just you wait’— foreshadowing how Hamilton delopes (lit. throws away his shot) in his duel with Burr.

It’s also possibly another reference to musical theater history (as with “sit down, John” and “c'est moi,” among others). In this case, a reference to the famous song “Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait” from “My Fair Lady.”

Throughout Act I, in “Alexander Hamilton” and “Satisfied,” “just you wait” is almost always sung by Hamilton himself, as a way saying ‘if you pay attention, I’ll show you what I can do.’ No other character sings it, only the company, in “Alexander Hamilton.”

In that song, they sing it to echo his ‘I’ statement—“There’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait”—literally lending body and weight to his own pronouncement. Here however, they chime in after him and pointedly don’t share the ‘I’ statement. The music takes on an element of tension when they all sing together.

The company is morphing into a Greek chorus, foreshadowing the turning tide of public opinion and Hamilton’s fall from grace in Act II. They’re also literally responding to Hamilton—‘You’re not throwing away your shot? Just you wait’— foreshadowing how Hamilton delopes (lit. throws away his shot) in his duel with Burr.

It’s also possibly another reference to musical theater history (as with “sit down, John” and “c'est moi,” among others). In this case, a reference to the famous song “Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait” from “My Fair Lady.”

This is the last time we hear Hamilton say “I am not throwin' away my shot!” before he questions doing exactly this in his duel with Burr. The short reprise serves to wrap up Act I, where Hamilton is a lesser-known soldier, before we move into Act II, in which we see him as an established politician and writer.

Guns are easy in Act I where Hamilton knew who the bad guys were. In Act II, he’ll have friends Madison and Burr turning on him, and the audience will even have the meta implication of Daveed Diggs turning from a friend (who uses guns) to a foe (who uses words).

The line is followed by the sound of a gunshot, another harbinger of his impending duel.