scioscribe:

I have seen people say that one of the tragedies of “The World Was Wide Enough” is that Hamilton and Burr both break with their natures–Burr doesn’t wait and Hamilton throws away his shot.  This is perfectly, literally true, as well as excellent wordplay in the second instance, but I’ve been thinking that one of the really beautiful things about the musical is that it’s not completely true.

Hamilton throws away his (gun)shot, but that’s never–in his own mind or in the play itself–been what the metaphorical shot really is, at least not consistently.  “Not throwing away your shot” is about not wasting your opportunities; it’s about making the deliberate choice.  Hamilton throws away his more active military career when he signs on as Washington’s aide, but he views this–at least in the moment–as seizing his shot, because Washington has persuaded him that it’s harder and more honorable to try to live.  He and his men take the bullets out of their guns at Yorktown to better secure their victory.

And it’s not only Hamilton who wins by losing, or at least by forfeiting the showier and more conventional route to victory: it’s Washington, too.  LMM is explicit about this in the notes on “One Last Time”: that the song highlights Washington’s “most radical act/lasting legacy,” which is his decision to walk away from power and not seek it again.  He throws away the most obvious form of power, but he doesn’t throw away his chance for meaningful action: he just redefines what meaningful action looks like.  Even though Hamilton says it will make him look weak, Washington pushes through, because “they will see we’re strong.”  He turns down one shot for another: he teaches a country, and a succession of presidents, and Hamilton himself, to say goodbye.

And that’s what Hamilton learns from him, and from Eliza, who chooses–consciously and actively–to forgive.  He says, “If I throw away my shot, is this how you’ll remember me?  What if this bullet is my legacy?”  And it is, and he knows that, and he chooses this chance, this idea of meaningful action: to aim at the sky.  To not kill, or even feign to kill, “[his] first friend, [his] enemy.”  And we don’t say he’s weak for that; we see he’s strong.

Because kindness, in Hamilton, is always deserving of our awe and respect.  Hamilton’s “non-stop” series of accomplishments is wonderful to behold, but the one thing we’re really asked if we can even imagine is Eliza offering him forgiveness.  When Hamilton chooses to aim for the sky, he doesn’t throw away his shot, he takes stock of everyone he’s loved, and everyone he’s lost, and everything he’s done, and seizes the opportunity–to be kind.  To make peace.

And for us, at least, that’s a substantial part of his legacy.  So part of what makes Hamilton so awesome, for me, is that it recognizes that sometimes deliberately refraining from action is the most powerful action you can take, and it defines its characters by those active refusals, those conscious choices to not go after more.  Hamilton throws away his shot, Eliza throws away her anger, Angelica throws away her chance, Washington throws away his reelection.  Principle is sometimes most meaningfully expressed by where we draw the line and what we refuse to do, which is why Hamilton cannot back Burr after hearing that there’s “nothing [he] wouldn’t do.”

Hamilton never really gives up.  As Burr says in “Wait for It,” all he does is “change the game.”

These things, too, are part of taking your shot: you take the opportunity to be better, smarter, kinder.  Hey, sometimes you “take the bullets out your gun” and that’s part of how you win the war.