only aaron burr. all of this was far less amusing to hamilton's widow eliza who outlived him for 50 years. in fact, she survived almost until the civil war. she died in november, 1854, age 97. this remarkable founding mother if you permit the expression cofounded and ran new york's largest free orphan with nearly 250 children. one of my fondest wishes in the book was to try to rescue eliza hamilton from the obscurity to which she had con signed herself by evidently burning her own letters to alexander hamilton while preserving lovingly every scrap she wrote to him. let me say in closing i knew with hamilton i had been handed a precious gift. i seem to like these large, flawed figures who force me to wrestle with their contradictions. with hamilton, every time i began to lapse into hero worship he would pull me up with some huge, unexpected blunder. every time i started to lose patience with him he would redeem himself again with some beautiful act of statesmanship or friendship or love. i was enthrale