Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

The song begins with Washington repeating some of his advice from Act I, reminding the audience that “History Has Its Eyes On You,” even though those exact words are never sung in the finale.

The military-style drumbeat underscoring the first portion of the song is the same one used in “Yorktown” as the British soldiers retreat; this harks back to the days when Washington had an important role to play in the Continental Army.

Thomas Jefferson served two terms as President of the United States (1801-1809). Burr served as Vice President for the first term, and George Clinton was VP for the second.

Jefferson’s Republican leadership hated Hamilton’s system of finance centralized in the federal government. Albert Gallatin, Jefferson’s treasury Secretary, moved to quickly reduce taxes during the first term. The Jefferson administration would reduce a number of other taxes and expenses, though they could never completely break Hamilton’s system.

Probably worth mentioning that Gallatin, while originally hired to dismantle Hamilton’s system, eventually fell in love with it, and is quoted as saying:

[Jefferson asked] ‘Well Gallatin, what have you found?‘ I answered: ‘I have found the most perfect system ever formed. Any change that should be made in it would injure it. Hamilton made no blunders, committed no frauds. He did nothing wrong.’ I think Mr. Jefferson was disappointed."

Throughout the song, the company echoes the messages and motifs relayed by the characters in a haunting, almost ghostly tone. But are they ghosts of the past, or of the future? Even actors who played principal characters in the rest of the show return here in the uniform, parchment-colored costumes of “Alexander Hamilton,” having joined the storytelling Ensemble. They now exist outside of the timeline of the show, and their questions are timeless. They’ve joined the choir invisible.

Paul Tazewell, the show’s costume designer, has said that he wanted to create a sense of unity. He did this by creating the same color scheme for all the characters, regardless of role in the musical. The unity represents that there are no qualms in death and that they are no longer rivals and friends and Founding Fathers, but rather one group of people telling and having told this story.

James Madison succeeded Jefferson as president. He served two terms (1809-1817).

As a politician, Madison changed views quite a bit. He initially agreed with Alexander Hamilton’s Federalist policies and even wrote The Federalist Papers with him, defending the U.S. Constitution (see “Non-Stop”).

Hanging around with Thomas Jefferson aligned his views with those of the Democratic-Republicans.

The War of 1812 was not easy on the U.S. economy after both Jefferson and Madison’s administrations attempted to tear down Hamilton’s policies. Following the war, Madison approved a Hamiltonian national bank, alongside other more Federalist-leaning financial policies.

Off-Broadway, Madison’s lines here were either of the following:

According to this tweet:

[MADISON]
He took our country from bankruptcy to prosperity
For that we are forever in his debt.
He would love that. He loved the debt.

According to this Off-Broadway transcription:

[MADISON]
He was in a position to enrich himself a thousand ways, and he didn’t
Does that make him foolish
Or honest?

The change to the final version was made in response to feedback from Ron Chernow:

Wordplay:

After long years fighting the Revolution, American currency had almost no value, and almost every colony was in debt (see “Stay Alive”). Historically, Hamilton’s most important achievement as America’s first Treasury Secretary was to consolidate the states' debts and establish a national bank and ‘line of credit.’ This allowed the United States to enter the global economy (see “Cabinet Battle #1”). So Hamilton, one of America’s least-celebrated Founding Fathers, does not get enough credit for the financial credit he gave America.

The secondary implication is that Hamilton doesn’t get enough credit for how much he personally believed in the United States. In 1774, he signed his very first political pamphlet, “A Friend To America.” At its youngest and most vulnerable, when nobody really knew if this self-governance thing was even going to work out, Hamilton was one of the only people thinking ahead to what America could be, and would need, decades, even centuries, in its future.

For more about Hamilton’s financial legacy, read or listen to this NPR story with Lin-Manuel Miranda. It includes a snippet of a deleted song!

James Madison succeeded Jefferson as president. He served two terms (1809-1817).

As a politician, Madison changed views quite a bit. He initially agreed with Alexander Hamilton’s Federalist policies and even wrote The Federalist Papers with him, defending the U.S. Constitution (see “Non-Stop”).

Hanging around with Thomas Jefferson aligned his views with those of the Democratic-Republicans.

The War of 1812 was not easy on the U.S. economy after both Jefferson and Madison’s administrations attempted to tear down Hamilton’s policies. Following the war, Madison approved a Hamiltonian national bank, alongside other more Federalist-leaning financial policies.

Wordplay:

After long years fighting the Revolution, American currency had almost no value, and almost every colony was in debt (see “Stay Alive”). Historically, Hamilton’s most important achievement as America’s first Treasury Secretary was to consolidate the states' debts and establish a national bank and ‘line of credit.’ This allowed the United States to enter the global economy (see “Cabinet Battle #1”). So Hamilton, one of America’s least-celebrated Founding Fathers, does not get enough credit for the financial credit he gave America.

The secondary implication is that Hamilton doesn’t get enough credit for how much he personally believed in the United States. In 1774, he signed his very first political pamphlet, “A Friend To America.” At its youngest and most vulnerable, when nobody really knew if this self-governance thing was even going to work out, Hamilton was one of the only people thinking ahead to what America could be, and would need, decades, even centuries, in its future.

For more about Hamilton’s financial legacy, read or listen to this NPR story with Lin-Manuel Miranda. It includes a snippet of a deleted song!

Throughout the song, the company echoes the messages and motifs relayed by the characters in a haunting, almost ghostly tone. But are they ghosts of the past, or of the future? Even actors who played principal characters in the rest of the show return here in the uniform, parchment-colored costumes of “Alexander Hamilton,” having joined the storytelling Ensemble. They now exist outside of the timeline of the show, and their questions are timeless. They’ve joined the choir invisible.

Paul Tazewell, the show’s costume designer, has said that he wanted to create a sense of unity. He did this by creating the same color scheme for all the characters, regardless of role in the musical. The unity represents that there are no qualms in death and that they are no longer rivals and friends and Founding Fathers, but rather one group of people telling and having told this story.

Hamilton died at the age of 47. Seven men were recognized as “key Founding Fathers”: John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and George Washington. Of these, only one other died before the age of 80—George Washington, who lived to be 67.

With regards to his story, after his death, Hamilton’s own party—the Federalists—worked to suppress his influence, such as his authorship of Washington’s farewell address, in order to support their claim to be the party of Washington rather than the (unpopular) Hamilton.

When Burr begins to recite this verse, he begins to walk from stage right to stage left, leading the company, making a sort of sweep across the stage, and Eliza emerges from backstage right. This is her show now, and she will tell the tale to its end on her own terms.

An oblique callback to Hamilton’s line about revolution and legacy in “My Shot”—“The plan is to fan this spark into a flame.” The fact that it is Eliza who keeps Alexander’s flame is particularly poignant after she set his letters on fire in “Burn.” There might also be a connection to carrying a torch for someone. Not only does Eliza keep Alexander’s legacy alive, but her love for him as well.

Flamekeeping is as old as humanity itself. Fire is an integral part of why humans were able to evolve the way we have. It allowed us to live in adverse climates, cook otherwise dangerous or inedible foods, see in the darkness, fashion increasingly sophisticated weapons, cauterize wounds, farm, forge, and you know, get high and eat s'mores. Fire in a village always had to be on hand. Someone would be put in charge of watching over and tending the coals, keeping these home fires burning. Over time, with the development of religion, ritual flamekeeping also came into existence. These fires were kept to honor a deity or ancestor, and were only used for ceremonial purposes like burning herbs/incense, making sacrifices, and divining the future. Flamekeepers were endowed with spiritual authority and became priests and priestesses. Thus, flamekeeping came to be associated with the metaphysical, and veneration thereof.

Nowadays, ritual flamekeeping has taken on a more secular role, though it continues to be practiced globally. Eternal flames are a common way for nations to memorialize events, fallen soldiers, and people of significance in perpetuity.

This is the only time the company asks, “who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” and gets an answer. Though Burr has acted as narrator throughout the play, it is Eliza who outlives them all and closes the book on Hamilton.

This completes Eliza’s arc, from “let me be a part of the narrative” in “That Would Be Enough,” through “I’m erasing myself from the narrative” in “Burn,” to this point of fully taking control not only of her narrative, but also of her husband’s, and of the play’s.

This is the only time the company asks, “who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” and gets an answer. Though Burr has acted as narrator throughout the play, it is Eliza who outlives them all and closes the book on Hamilton.

This completes Eliza’s arc, from “let me be a part of the narrative” in “That Would Be Enough,” through “I’m erasing myself from the narrative” in “Burn,” to this point of fully taking control not only of her narrative, but also of her husband’s, and of the play’s.

Her name is sung using the same intervallic motif from “The Schuyler Sisters” when Angelica, Peggy and Eliza first introduce themselves into the story.

She answer’s Washington’s question, “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” as well as Burr’s, “But when you’re gone, who remembers your name? Who keeps your flame? Who tells your story?” This is the only time the question is answered.

It’s also important to note that only the women answer “Eliza”, as it was still revelatory and out of the ordinary that a woman could achieve such incredible feats and eventually create such an immense legacy for herself.

Eliza spends the rest of her life telling Alexander’s story specifically, but also the stories of Mulligan, Lafayette, Laurens, and the soldiers and other political figures—essentially the entire company’s!

Miranda notes in Hamilton: The Revolution on page 280 about having Eliza close out the musical.

It’s unusual to end a musical with somebody other than the protagonist, but I felt like I had permission to end with Eliza after seeing Tony Kushner and Jeanine Tesori’s Caroline, or Change. At the end of the show, Caroline’s daughter comes forward to tell us how she will work for a better world because of her mothers sacrifices. You can tell that she’ll go on to have an incredible life. It made me want to see her musical.

This is the only time the company asks, “who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” and gets an answer. Though Burr has acted as narrator throughout the play, it is Eliza who outlives them all and closes the book on Hamilton.

This completes Eliza’s arc, from “let me be a part of the narrative” in “That Would Be Enough,” through “I’m erasing myself from the narrative” in “Burn,” to this point of fully taking control not only of her narrative, but also of her husband’s, and of the play’s.

Her name is sung using the same intervallic motif from “The Schuyler Sisters” when Angelica, Peggy and Eliza first introduce themselves into the story.

She answer’s Washington’s question, “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” as well as Burr’s, “But when you’re gone, who remembers your name? Who keeps your flame? Who tells your story?” This is the only time the question is answered.

It’s also important to note that only the women answer “Eliza”, as it was still revelatory and out of the ordinary that a woman could achieve such incredible feats and eventually create such an immense legacy for herself.

Eliza spends the rest of her life telling Alexander’s story specifically, but also the stories of Mulligan, Lafayette, Laurens, and the soldiers and other political figures—essentially the entire company’s!

Eliza’s decision to advance a greater agenda instead of focusing on the personal tragedy she’s faced mirrors Hamilton’s ambition in the beginning of the musical, after suffering through a incredibly tragic childhood. Also, when Lauren’s dies, Hamilton responds by diving deeper into his work. This corresponds with the theme that Hamilton’s death changes Eliza’s perspective more toward Hamilton’s perspective of working like he’s running out of time.

Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton lived to the ripe old age of 97.

She is buried with her husband in Trinity Church in New York City.

This recalls and changes Eliza’s repeated refrain from throughout the show (“that would be enough”). After Hamilton’s death, as she works to ensure his legacy and tell his story, Eliza comes to understand and embrace Alexander’s quality of “never being satisfied”—just as Philip’s death earlier led Hamilton to understand and embrace Eliza’s perspective (“that would be enough”) in “It’s Quiet Uptown.”

This sentiment matches with historical record—Chernow writes that Eliza always missed Hamilton dearly:

“That bust [of Hamilton] I can never forget,” one young visitor remembered, “for the old lady always paused before it in her tour of the rooms and, leaning on her cane, gazed and gazed, as if she could never be satisfied.”

Her name is sung using the same intervallic motif from “The Schuyler Sisters” when Angelica, Peggy and Eliza first introduce themselves into the story.

She answer’s Washington’s question, “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” as well as Burr’s, “But when you’re gone, who remembers your name? Who keeps your flame? Who tells your story?” This is the only time the question is answered.

It’s also important to note that only the women answer “Eliza”, as it was still revelatory and out of the ordinary that a woman could achieve such incredible feats and eventually create such an immense legacy for herself.

Eliza spends the rest of her life telling Alexander’s story specifically, but also the stories of Mulligan, Lafayette, Laurens, and the soldiers and other political figures—essentially the entire company’s!

At this moment the percussion introduces a clearly militaristic motif on the snare drum, to emphasise Alexander’s history as a military man. In addition, the snare’s rhythm is the same as the one that appears in Yorktown.

John Laurens was killed in 1782 during the American Revolutionary War. In the stage musical, you see the Hamiltons receive a letter from his father about Laurens' death in “Tomorrow There’ll Be More of Us.

Certainly, Eliza could tell his story, but she could not and did not interview him.

The three friends from Alexander’s military days sing this line because it shows that they had accomplished their dream of being remembered (Story of Tonight).

Each member of this group had moved out of Hamilton’s life by this point but Eliza tracked down the details and told the story that you wouldn’t have clicked on this annotation if you didn’t love!

Not an exaggeration. The papers that survived are collected online, here.

According to Chernow:

Between 1961 and 1987, [… a] team at Columbia University Press published twenty-seven thick volumes of Hamilton’s personal and political papers. [Another team] added five volumes of legal and business papers […] bringing the total haul to twenty-two thousand pages.

The thirty-two volumes Chernow refers to here appear in The Papers of Alexander Hamilton and The Law Practice of Alexander Hamilton, both from Columbia University Press.

This makes a reference to “Why do you write like you’re running out of time” in “Non-Stop” by using the same musical motif. “Non-Stop” was the Act I finale, so it is fitting that its motif reappears at the end of Act II.

Eliza also asked him “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” in “Best of Wives and Best of Women” just before Alexander goes to the duel with Burr. It could also be a call-back to their last conversation before Alexander’s death.

An emotionally moving repetition—“time, time, time,” each with added nuance—begins to build here into a layered, powerful motif. It also harks back to the show’s first song where the company sounds out to Hamilton that he “never learned to take his time.”

The repetition also serves as a sort of clock tick, pacing us through the five decades of Eliza’s life and accomplishments after Alexander’s death, and finally to the present.

Angelica sings her own name in her own introductory motif from “The Schuyler Sisters,” symbolizing the closeness of their sisterhood, and illustrating that they are a united front in their work of telling Alexander’s story. Musically, Eliza sings the notes down the scale, while Angelica sings them up, creating a moment of triumphant, full-circle harmony.

There is even a small piece of “Satisfied” right after “we tell your story.” This symbolizes how she is still looking after Eliza, by securing her family’s legacy.

Angelica Schuyler Church died on March 13, 1814 at the age of 58.

Angelica sings her own name in her own introductory motif from “The Schuyler Sisters,” symbolizing the closeness of their sisterhood, and illustrating that they are a united front in their work of telling Alexander’s story. Musically, Eliza sings the notes down the scale, while Angelica sings them up, creating a moment of triumphant, full-circle harmony.

There is even a small piece of “Satisfied” right after “we tell your story.” This symbolizes how she is still looking after Eliza, by securing her family’s legacy.

Trinity Church is located at 75 Wall Street in lower Manhattan. Philip, Eliza, and Alexander are all also buried there.

The Hamilton family owned pew 92 in the church. Five of Alexander and Eliza’s children were baptized there.

Hamilton’s grave:

The text on the gravestone reads:

The corporation of TRINITY CHURCH Has erected this
In Testimony of their Respect
FOR
The PATRIOT of incorruptible INTEGRITY
The SOLDIER of approved VALOR
The STATESMAN of consummate WISDOM
Whose TALENTS and VIRTUES will be admired
Long after this MARBLE shall have mouldered into
DUST
He died July 12th 1804 Aged 47

Notably, the gravestone probably has his age wrong—historians today consider it more likely that he was born in 1755, which would make him 49 at the time of his death, not 47.

Angelica returned to New York with her husband in 1797, the same year as The Reynolds Pamphlet’s publication, and never again went back to Europe. Her husband was English by birth and prominent in English politics (an elected MP), and he returned to England after Angelica’s death; the fact that Angelica stayed in New York until her death in 1814 speaks to her deep devotion to her sister and country of birth.

Eliza spent considerable time working on things that she thinks Alexander would’ve supported, including honoring Washington’s memory, working to abolish slavery, and attempting to publish Hamilton’s papers . This was not the first time that Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton helped Alexander to finish projects when he lacked the time to do so himself – she helped pen a detailed letter to Robert Morris, which discussed financial practices that would one day be implemented in the US Treasury.

However, Eliza believed carrying on Alexander’s dearest works was not only important for the Hamilton legacy, but also for the country – she viewed these acts as her duty.

It’s telling that she discusses the things she did in Hamilton’s honor prior to the achievement she found most important – the orphanage. It’s also noteworthy that the orphanage itself was something of an homage to Alexander, who was himself an orphan.

There are many ways to interpret the way the Widow Eliza chose to tie all of her accomplishments to Alexander. Certainly some of this was a product of the culture she lived in – self-aggrandizing was viewed as crass for women, but praising her late husband – and maintaining his (and her family’s) legacy was considered admirable. One can also view Eliza’s actions as the ultimate love letter to the man she quite clearly loved deeply. Eliza can also be viewed as a historian who recognized her husband’s unique place in American history and understood its significance for our country’s future – or as a philanthropist in her own right, utilizing her ties to one of the Founding Fathers to achieve her own goals.

Whatever the reason, and however indirectly, Eliza Hamilton – like her husband, Alexander – wrote herself into the narrative.

So maybe, in this one instance, Death does discriminate, and gives to Eliza the time it took from Hamilton.

It may also allude back to Hamilton’s request to Eliza in “The World Was Wide Enough”: “my love, take your time.” The Lord gives Alexander what he wanted, if not for himself then for Eliza.

Following this line, the song’s key goes up a half-step on the word “Time,” indicating not only the passage of time, but also the seemingly non-stop series of accomplishments of Eliza after Hamilton’s death.

Sadly, the Lord didn’t give Eliza quite enough time. Her son, John Church Hamilton, became Alexander Hamilton’s biographer. He began publishing his seven-volumes about his father in 1834, but didn’t finish until 1858. Eliza died in 1854. According to Chernow, his sister Eliza Hamilton Holly chided him for not getting it done more quickly.

Eliza moved to Washington DC in 1848, the same year the cornerstone of the Washington Monument was laid. She worked closely with Dolley Madison in her fundraising efforts. However, due to monetary issues, controversy, and the Civil War, the monument wasn’t completed until 1888.

Donations for the monument ran out in 1854, the same year that Eliza passed away.

In the show, after Washington comes forward and says “She tells my story,” and Eliza follows up with “I speak out against slavery,” Washington hangs his head in shame and steps back into the darkness.

The Washington Administration did many things right, but actively ignored the issue of slavery, effectively pushing the problem back for other administrations down the line. Washington eventually let his slaves walk free closer to the end of his life but never took a stand when he had political influence, unlike both Alexander and Eliza.

From Chernow:

Like her husband, [Eliza] was a committed abolitionist who delighted in entertaining slave children from the neighborhood, and she referred derisively to the slaveholding states as the ‘African States.’

In interviews, Christopher Jackson discusses how his character George Washington did not speak out against slavery. He describes how his character bows in shame and realization when Eliza sings this line.

Coming in the middle of Eliza reciting her accomplishments, and preceding her question of “Have I done enough?”, this could be seen as a moment of modesty; she’s not just saying that Alexander could have done more than he did, but that he could have accomplished more than she did if he’d been granted as much time as she was.

However, it’s not just modesty: she was a woman. In the 19th century, that would have made a big difference. She did her best and accomplished a lot, but because of the restrictions on her gender in the realms of politics and law, he would have been able to do more than her, in every sense.

Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton lived to the ripe old age of 97.

She is buried with her husband in Trinity Church in New York City.

Another instance of Eliza becoming less passive and more active: she no longer wants to be enough, but instead is focused on doing enough.

In 2015, Graham Windham, the childcare agency originally founded by Eliza as an orphanage, hosted a luncheon in Eliza’s honor. Miranda and Soo attended and performed “That Would Be Enough.”

The children from Graham Windham sang a response to Eliza’s question:

The line moves from “your story” to “our story” as Eliza takes ownership of ‘the narrative.’

Also, during the bows, the whole cast bows together. This is different than most show where people come out either in groups, or one-by-one, based on the size of their role. By saying “our” instead of “your,” Eliza is not only referring to herself and Hamilton, but everybody that made this story the way it is. As mentioned above, in many ways, in telling the story of Alexander, she tells the story of the entire company. She feels this responsibility as she lives the longest. She needs to be the one to complete the story of Hamilton.

This sudden interest in their legacy is both a U-turn for Eliza and wonderfully consistent: Throughout their marriage she insisted “We don’t need a legacy” and appreciated the simple joys of life, often wondering how Alexander could not think that what they had was “enough”. Alexander, however, was obsessive in his need to build and maintain his legacy, though it “ruined [their] lives”. He was “never satisfied”. In spite of all the heartache it has caused her, here Eliza, in her lifelong generosity, meets Alexander’s intransigence in a way he never could for others: with understanding. Happy with what life’s already given her, she devotes the rest to doing what he would have wanted, albeit in her own kinder and gentler way.

Okay, sure, the orphanage was pretty cool. But what about that time, as told by Chernow, when Eliza iced out President James Monroe, who you will recall from earlier annotations was the man who actually leaked information on the Reynolds Affair.

“Mr. Monroe, if you have come to tell me that you repent, that you are sorry, very sorry, for the misrepresentations and the slanders and the stories you circulated against my dear husband, if you have come to say this, I understand it. But otherwise, no lapse of time, no nearness to the grave, makes any difference.”

You get nothing. You lose. Good day, sir!

This is the second time someone close to Hamilton has come to him (symbolically in this case) to show off an accomplishment. Eliza’s achievement is not intellectual, however; it’s an achievement of compassion and love. She has always had a better idea about what makes a good and full life. Even now, she doesn’t come to her husband and say, “Look at this awesome rap I made for you!” (like Philip and Hamilton’s young friends). Instead, she says: “You’re gone and I’m still looking after bastard orphans”.

This line is sung following the same progression as Eliza’s introductory theme, implying that her most important accomplishment—what she wants her legacy to be—is the orphanage.

It’s also the same intonation as the “forgiveness” in “It’s Quiet Uptown.” The orphanage isn’t just a memorial—it’s a living act of reconciliation, and a way, across time, for a couple who lost a child to raise lost children. Can you imagine?

That would be The Orphan Asylum Society of the City of New York:

Less than two years after her husband’s death, on March 15th, 1806, Eliza and a small group of women including Sara Hoffman and Isabella Graham, among others had gathered to form the Orphan Asylum Society to care for children who were orphaned from epidemics of cholera and yellow fever. Their mission was clear, “To help the afflicted and the needy others have forgotten; to provide them with the education and training they need to become productive, contributing members of society: to help them realize their capacity for happiness and success which belongs to all human beings….” On May 1, 1806 they opened the doors of the Society’s first home, a rented two-story frame house on Raisin Street. Twelve orphans were admitted in the first six months and by the end of the year, 200 orphaned children had been admitted… and the rest, as they say, is history!

Eliza spent 27 years directing the orphanage, and it still exists today in the form of the Graham Windham.

Philippa Soo, who plays Eliza, has done volunteer work with Graham Windham:

Soo was one of two dozen members of the cast and crew who recently became pen-pals with the agency’s children and has recruited some of her colleagues to participate in “The Eliza Project,” where professionals offer Graham Windham kids lessons in acting, dancing and rap.

Miranda has also said he will donate some of the money he received from the MacArthur Genius Grant to Graham Windham.

In addition to this orphanage, Eliza Hamilton founded another orphanage in Washington, D.C., and she would sometimes host homeless children in her own home.

She also established the first school in Washington Heights, which is coincidentally the setting of Miranda’s other Broadway musical, In the Heights.

Miranda was astonished when he discovered this coincidence:

So imagine, I’m reading this book. And then I read that in the closing chapter. It was a confirmation — I was supposed to do this.

Miranda included a verbal and musical reference to In the Heights in an earlier draft of this song, but cut it because it felt “too on the nose.”

You just can’t. Even though it’s historically true, I can’t actually say “in Washington Heights” at the end of my fucking show. But it was there to be mine.

This line is sung to the same tune as the phrase/motif “that would be enough,” implying that raising orphaned children was ultimately her most fulfilling (and satisfying) accomplishment.

Eliza would also have relished getting to see the children growing up as she missed part of this experience with Philip, since he died so young. And it helped her feel closer to Alexander, since it gave her a fuller understanding of his childhood.

Throughout the show, from the very first few lines of Alexander Hamilton. It is referenced several times that Hamilton was an orphan. Both of his parents died before he was too old and before he came to live in New York. It’s not just said by just Hamilton either. Burr references it too, if fact he’s the first one to tell us this. And he continues to in What’d I Miss? And so it makes it that much more poignant when we learn that one of the many ways Hamilton’s wife, Eliza, decided to tribute him. Was create an Orphanage in his honor. So she could contribute in young ones finding new homes and families who love them and want to keep and raise them.

It was always Hamilton’s eyes that captured Eliza’s heart. But in the wake of Alexander’s death, Eliza’s views towards his eyes change: they no longer make her feel helpless. Instead, they spur her on to action. One of the reasons she is compelled to create the Orphan Asylum Society of the City of New York was probably because her late husband was also an orphan; giving her a personal connection to orphans.

At the end of this note they drop to an almost flat note, accenting Eliza’s plea for her story to be told.

After his death, Eliza takes on Hamilton’s determination to ensure that his legacy will never be forgotten. In pursuing that goal, she creates a legacy of her own, as well.

This is a significant transition from her initial desire to lead a simple, happy life as a wife and mother. Compare this with her sentiment in “That Would Be Enough:”

We don’t need a legacy

The above movement from “your story” to “our story” is followed by this, Eliza’s “my story.” She has taken control of the narrative—it is her story of the orphanage, and her version of Hamilton’s life, which she wants told.

It’s also interesting to think about the fact that she is a woman and so her story probably wouldn’t have been told. She’s putting so much of herself into the history, hoping to continue Hamilton’s legacy and she’s worried that— because she’s only one person, and a woman at that—it might still all get lost. Eliza told everyone else’s story without the guarantee of getting her own marked down in history.

It’s comforting to note that in writing this, Lin-Manuel Miranda told Eliza’s story. Notice that the title of the show is simply Hamilton—Eliza is Hamilton too, and she is the one who gets to end the show.

Eliza missed her Hamilton so. Chernow records an anecdote where a visitor heard her, decades into her widowhood, quietly saying to herself:

I am so tired. It is so long. I want to see Hamilton.

Here’s Lin-Manuel Miranda getting misty while reading the relevant passage from Chernow on August 6th, Hamilton’s opening night on Broadway.

At this point on stage, Hamilton appears next to Eliza, much to her happiness and amazement, as if this is the moment of her death. In fact, after the final note fades, the last sound heard is Eliza’s gasp—perhaps her last breath, or her joy at her dying vision of Alexander waiting for her—as the theater goes dark.

By the end of the show, the title, Hamilton, refers to Eliza Hamilton as much as Alexander Hamilton. It opened by describing Alexander’s birth, so it’s appropriate for it to end with the death of Eliza, the one who told so much of both of their stories.

As the New Yorker describes it:

In the show’s final moment, he motions Eliza to the lip of the stage, where she steps beyond him and takes the light. The last image we see is of her awestruck face, gazing out into some blissful beyond.

There may even be some meaning on a further meta-narrative level. In this song, Eliza has become the extradiegetic narrator (lit. narrating from outside the world of the story). So in a way, she is literally looking out into the theater and seeing the crowds of people that have come to see and hear her and her husband’s story in this amazing play that’s being performed for packed audiences and turning the entire world of theater on its head. THEY’RE TELLING YOUR STORY. YOU MADE IT, GIRL, YOU MADE IT.

Eliza is there to answer the question posed by this song, and she finishes telling Hamilton’s story, but this closing implies that the only thing that really has any control over who lives, who dies, who tells your—Eliza’s, Alexander’s, anyone’s, the listener’s—story, is time. Time itself tells.

Time is also what separates 1804 and this 21st century telling of the Hamilton story. These lines illustrate the musical’s interest in how the story changes to reflect the time in which it is told. Hamilton tells a 200+ year-old story from the perspective of the present, both through its music and its narrative. Each call of the chorus’s “Time…” brings us one step away from the story and one step back to audience and actors together in the theater, telling this story, unique to this particular moment in time.

Eliza is there to answer the question posed by this song, and she finishes telling Hamilton’s story, but this closing implies that the only thing that really has any control over who lives, who dies, who tells your—Eliza’s, Alexander’s, anyone’s, the listener’s—story, is time. Time itself tells.

Time is also what separates 1804 and this 21st century telling of the Hamilton story. These lines illustrate the musical’s interest in how the story changes to reflect the time in which it is told. Hamilton tells a 200+ year-old story from the perspective of the present, both through its music and its narrative. Each call of the chorus’s “Time…” brings us one step away from the story and one step back to audience and actors together in the theater, telling this story, unique to this particular moment in time.

In the final moment of the Broadway production, just after this line, Eliza steps downstage center as the rest of the stage is dark. Illuminated alone, she gazes out at the audience after the final note of the song and weeps briefly, quietly, and sweetly. It serves as a recognition that Hamilton’s story is finally being told, that the audience now gets to be “part of the narrative,” and as a further placement of the onus on the audience.

This last line “Who tells your story,” is almost word for word and chord per chord the last line in the musical Once on this Island, another musical with a hero from the Caribbean, Ti Moune. That show’s finale ends with the cast explaining “Why We Tell The Story.” In the final line, the cast, and the characters they have portrayed, take responsibility for the show that they put on, saying in total unison, “we tell the story.”

Hamilton instead asks the audience directly who tells your story. Eliza has claimed responsibility for the narrative of Hamilton, but the show acknowledges that stories continue past the people themselves, past just one retelling. Stories come out of the narrative that one builds oneself, out of the choices that one makes, but much of what comes after that is up to others. Hamilton chooses to leave the onus on ‘you,’ the listener, to put yourself in your own narrative, and to cherish the relationships and the people who will take responsibility for your story after you are gone.

Not only does the theme of telling your and your loved ones' stories run throughout this play, it’s also one of the core themes of Miranda’s first musical, In The Heights.

“Abuela, I’m sorry…
but I ain’t goin back
because I’m telling your story!” –Finale

Also, the very last syllable of the musical is sung without harmony or instruments and (as mentioned before) in unison. This could be a nod to a phrase on the Great Seal of the United States, “e pluribus unum,” which translates to “out of many, one.”
From Wikipedia:

The traditionally understood meaning of the phrase was that out of many states (or colonies) emerges a single nation. However, in recent years its meaning has come to suggest that out of many peoples, races, religions, languages, and ancestries has emerged a single people and nation—illustrating the concept of the melting pot.

According the US Treasury, the phrase first appeared on US coinage in 1795 and is found on all coins currently manufactured.

The last thing the audience hears is a multi-layered homage to the themes of Hamilton, Hamilton’s legacy with the US Treasury, and the spirit of one of the mottos of the United States.