Lin-Manuel Miranda changed everything. Before that stage lights hit the Richard Rodgers Theatre, most people knew the guy on the ten-dollar bill as a stiff, powdered-wig type who died in a duel. Now? He’s a scrappy immigrant, a lyrical genius, and a bit of a tragic hero. But here’s the thing: the Alexander Hamilton from Hamilton isn't exactly the same guy who walked the streets of New York in the 1790s.
History is messy. It’s loud, confusing, and full of people who don't always sing their feelings in perfect rhyme.
If you’ve seen the show, you know the vibe. You’ve felt that kinetic energy. But honestly, sorting through the "theatre magic" to find the real human being is where it gets interesting. Miranda himself has been super open about the fact that he took some liberties to make the story work for a 21st-century audience. It’s a masterpiece, yeah, but it's not a documentary.
Was He Really That "Young, Scrappy, and Hungry"?
The musical paints Hamilton as this tireless underdog. And to be fair, that’s mostly true. He was born in Nevis, out of wedlock, which was a massive social stigma back then. His dad left. His mom died. He was basically a teenage clerk running a global trading house before he could legally drink. That part? Totally accurate.
He was brilliant. He was also incredibly annoying to his peers.
In the show, we see him as a revolutionary visionary. In reality, the real Alexander Hamilton from Hamilton was a bit of a contradiction. While the play emphasizes his "immigrant" status as a badge of populist pride, the historical Hamilton was actually pretty elitist. He didn't really trust "the masses." He wanted a strong central government because he thought people were, well, kind of chaotic and unreliable. He once famously referred to the people as a "great beast." Not exactly the man-of-the-people energy we get from the "My Shot" lyrics, right?
Still, you can't deny the work ethic. He wrote the majority of the Federalist Papers in a literal frenzy. That part of the show where Eliza asks why he writes like he’s running out of time? That’s 100% based on his actual output. The dude was a machine.
The Burr Dilemma: Friends or Foes?
The relationship between Aaron Burr and Hamilton is the heartbeat of the musical. "The Room Where It Happens" is a banger, but it also frames their rivalry as this lifelong, slow-burn tension.
Historians like Ron Chernow—whose biography literally inspired the play—point out that they were actually on decent terms for a long time. They worked together on legal cases. They dined together. It wasn't just "Talk less, smile more" from day one. Their fallout was a gradual, painful disintegration of professional respect that ended in the most famous "oops" in American history.
Burr wasn't just a "wait for it" guy. He was a savvy politician who eventually felt like Hamilton was systematically destroying his career. And honestly, Hamilton was. He used his influence to block Burr over and over again. By the time they got to Weehawken in 1804, the air was thick with years of petty letters and public insults.
That Whole Schuyler Sisters Dynamic
Look, we all love Angelica. "Satisfied" is arguably the best song in the show. But the "forbidden love" subplot is mostly theatrical spice.
In the musical, Angelica is heartbroken because she has to marry for social status, leaving Alexander for Eliza. In real life, Angelica was already married when she met Hamilton. She had eloped with a guy named John Church years prior. Did she and Hamilton have a "flirty" correspondence? Absolutely. Their letters are... intense. She once wrote to Eliza, "If you were as generous as the Old Romans, you would lend him to me for a little while."
Kinda scandalous? Sure. But there’s no hard evidence they ever had an actual affair. It was more of an intellectual crush that played out on expensive stationery.
The Maria Reynolds Scandal
If you want to talk about facts the musical nailed, it's the Reynolds Pamphlet.
Hamilton was the first major American politician to have a public sex scandal. Most guys back then would have just denied it or stayed quiet. Not Alexander. He was so terrified that people would think he was guilty of financial corruption that he decided to prove his innocence by publishing a massive, detailed confession about his infidelity.
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He basically said, "I didn't steal government money; I was just cheating on my wife!"
It was a total disaster. It crushed Eliza. It ruined his chances of ever being President. The "Burn" sequence in the musical captures the emotional wreckage, even if the real Eliza didn't necessarily burn all her letters in a dramatic hip-hop soliloquy. We don't actually know what she did with them, because they’re gone. That’s the "erasure" the show talks about.
The Slavery Narrative: A Nuanced Look
This is where the Alexander Hamilton from Hamilton gets the most pushback from historians. The musical positions him as a staunch abolitionist—the "manumission abolitionist" line gets a big cheer.
The reality is a bit more gray.
Hamilton was a founding member of the New York Manumission Society. He definitely leaned toward the anti-slavery side of the spectrum compared to guys like Jefferson. However, research by scholars like Jessie Serfilippi suggests that Hamilton likely owned or managed enslaved people within his own household through his connection to the Schuyler family. He also prioritized a strong federal union over the immediate end of slavery. He was a pragmatist, often to a fault.
The show simplifies this to make him a more relatable hero for us today. It’s a choice. It makes for a better story, but it’s important to remember that almost no one in that era came out of the "peculiar institution" with perfectly clean hands.
Why the Ending Still Hits So Hard
The duel. Weehawken, New Jersey.
The show portrays Hamilton as intentionally throwing away his shot. This is backed up by the "apologia" he wrote before the duel, where he stated he intended to fire into the air (a practice called "deloping"). He didn't want to kill Burr; he wanted to preserve his "honor" without committing a sin.
Burr, on the other hand, fired and hit.
One detail the musical skips: Hamilton was wearing his glasses. He actually stopped the proceedings to put them on and check the light. Some people think he was aiming; others think he was just trying to see the trees. We’ll never know. But the image of Eliza living another fifty years to tell his story? That’s true. She spent the rest of her life collecting his papers, fighting for his legacy, and establishing the first private orphanage in New York City. She is the real hero of the final act.
Actionable Insights for Hamilton Fans
If you're obsessed with the Alexander Hamilton from Hamilton and want to go deeper, don't just stop at the Disney+ recording. You can actually engage with the real history without it being boring.
- Read the Reynolds Pamphlet: It’s public domain. Reading his actual words is wild. He goes into way more detail than you’d expect for a Treasury Secretary. It’s a fascinating look at a brilliant mind making a massive tactical error.
- Visit Trinity Church: If you’re ever in New York, go to the graveyard at Trinity Church in Lower Manhattan. Hamilton, Eliza, Angelica, and Hercules Mulligan are all buried there. Seeing the actual stones makes the "who tells your story" theme feel very real.
- Check out the "Founding Collection": The Library of Congress has digitized thousands of Hamilton’s original letters. You can see his actual handwriting—the frantic, slanting script of a man who really did write like he was running out of time.
- Listen to the "Hamilton Instrumentals": If you want to appreciate the lyrical complexity without getting swept up in the plot, listen to the backing tracks. You’ll hear the "Satisfied" beat cues and the "Right Hand Man" drum fills that mimic 18th-century military marches.
- Compare the Burr/Hamilton Letters: Search for the "Correspondence Leading to the Duel." The tone is incredibly cold and formal. It shows how "honor" was a literal life-or-death currency back then.
The musical is a gateway. It’s a loud, brilliant, hip-hop-infused entrance into a world that was just as complicated and messy as our own. Hamilton wasn't a saint, and he wasn't just a character in a play. He was a guy who talked too much, loved too hard, and built a financial system that we still use every time we swipe a card today. That’s a legacy worth a bit of research.