Growing Discontent: Taxes, Protests, and Patriot Voices
By the mid-1760s, the American colonies were thriving but restless. Prosperity had bred confidence, and confidence bred defiance. Across the Atlantic, Parliament’s new taxes and trade restrictions tested the loyalty of Britain’s subjects in North America.
Portrait of Patrick Henry by thomas Sully, 1815, Oil on Canvas on display in the Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg.
1764 – The Sugar Act: Seeking revenue after the French and Indian War, Parliament taxed sugar, molasses, and other goods imported to the colonies. For the first time, the goal was to raise money directly from colonists rather than regulate commerce. Boston merchant James Otis protested, declaring, “Taxation without representation is tyranny.”
1765 – The Stamp Act: A levy on paper goods—from legal documents to newspapers—sparked outrage. Patrick Henry thundered against it in Virginia’s House of Burgesses, warning that unchecked power could make King George III a tyrant. Voices in the chamber shouted “Treason!” but Henry stood firm. In Boston, Samuel Adams and the Sons of Liberty rallied crowds, while boycotts spread across the seaboard.
1766 – The Declaratory Act: When protests forced repeal of the Stamp Act, Parliament responded by asserting its right to legislate for the colonies “in all cases whatsoever.” The message was unmistakable: British authority remained absolute.
1767 – The Townshend Acts: New taxes on glass, lead, paint, and tea rekindled resistance. Colonial women calling themselves the Daughters of Liberty began weaving homespun cloth and refusing imported finery. Political debate filled taverns and churches, and pamphlets circulated widely.
By decade’s end, the colonies buzzed with debate. Printers issued fiery essays, preachers spoke of liberty from their pulpits, and taverns became centers of political discussion. The thirteen colonies were learning to think—and speak.
“Give Me Liberty!” — and a Place Called Scotchtown
Few voices stirred hearts like Patrick Henry’s. His thunderous speech at Richmond’s St. John’s Church in 1775—“I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!”—electrified the Virginia Convention and set the colony on the road to revolution. His oratory transformed doubt into resolve. The delegates voted to raise a militia, ensuring Virginia would stand with Massachusetts in open defiance of Britain.
Yet away from the pulpit and politics, Henry lived quietly at Scotchtown, his plantation in Hanover County, about thirty miles northwest of Richmond. There, amid rolling farmland and tobacco fields, he was husband, father, and thinker, a man balancing the call of liberty with the burdens of personal life.
Finding Scotchtown
Back in 2019, I had the opportunity to visit Scotchtown. I found a two-story frame house, painted a soft gray-blue, sitting on a gentle rise surrounded by 18th-century-style gardens. Henry bought it in 1771 and lived there until 1778, years that transformed him from local lawyer into revolutionary leader. Visitors approach along Chiswell Lane near Beaverdam, where Preservation Virginia maintains the site. Guided tours and living-history programs reveal how Henry’s world looked on the eve of independence.
The Voice of the Revolution
Born in 1736 on nearby Studley Plantation, Patrick Henry’s rise was improbable. After failed attempts at farming and shopkeeping, he discovered his gift for persuasion. His 1763 argument in The Parson’s Cause brought fame, but the Stamp Act crisis three years later made him a household name. From his study at Scotchtown, Henry read voraciously, exchanged letters with fellow patriots, and refined the eloquent words that would inspire a revolution.
Private Sorrows
Patrick married Sarah Shelton around 1754, and they had six children. After the birth of their last, Sarah suffered severe mental illness, likely postpartum psychosis. At a time when the only “treatment” was commitment to a grim asylum, Henry arranged for her to be cared for safely in two rooms in Scotchtown’s basement. She died in 1775, only weeks before his immortal speech. Visitors often pause in those quiet rooms, a place where tragedy lingers.
Two years later, Henry found renewed companionship with Dorothea Dandridge, cousin of Martha Washington. Nearly twenty years younger, she brought warmth to his household and bore eleven more children. Through Henry’s long career, five terms as Virginia’s governor and later elder statesman, Dorothea remained his steadfast partner.
Patrick Henry and the Governor’s Palace
Since I am a huge fan of Colonial Williamsburg, I had to include this section. On June 29, 1776, Patrick Henry became the first elected governor of Virginia. Very shortly after his election, he and his family moved into the Governor’s Palace in Williamsburg, the former residence of the royal governors.
The Palace had been vacated when Lord Dunmore fled the colony in 1775. Its lavish furnishings were sold off or repurposed, but the building itself remained intact and suitable as the official residence. Patrick Henry lived in the Governor’s Palace for nearly three years, from June 1776 to mid-1779, his three consecutive one-year gubernatorial terms.
In 1779, Thomas Jefferson succeeded Henry. Jefferson declined to live in the Palace due to concerns about cost, repairs, and wartime safety. The Palace was later converted to a hospital for wounded American soldiers. It burned accidentally in 1781, completing the building’s dramatic end.
Later Years and Legacy
Red Hill Today Photo from redhill.org
In 1794 the Henrys moved to Red Hill, overlooking the Staunton River in Charlotte County. Patrick Henry died there in 1799 at age 63. Today, Red Hill serves as the Patrick Henry National Memorial, with his restored home, law office, museum, and burial site shaded by old trees.
I wondered what became of Henry’s seventeen children and here’s what I uncovered.
While several of Henry’s sons served in local government, courts, or militia, and some fought in the Revolution, none reached national prominence. Instead, the Henrys became part of Virginia’s respected gentry, maintaining family lands and public service traditions.
Many descendants intermarried with other prominent Virginia families—Winstons, Fontaines, Campbells, and Roanes—creating a vast network that extended into politics, law, and the church through the 19th century.
The best-known later descendant was William Wirt Henry (1831–1900), Patrick’s grandson, who became president of the Virginia Historical Society, a Civil War veteran, and author of the definitive “Patrick Henry: Life, Correspondence and Speeches” (1891), which remains a key historical source.
Allow time to explore the parlor and study, where Henry likely rehearsed his speeches, and the basement, which preserves Sarah Henry’s poignant story. Scotchtown captures the human side of Henry’s life.
What to See: Henry’s home and law office, family graves, museum with personal artifacts, walking trails through plantation grounds, and the “Quarter Place” Cemetery honoring enslaved individuals.
Hours: Spring through fall, 9 a.m.–5 p.m.; winter, 9 a.m.–4 p.m. (Sunday 1–5 p.m.)
Admission: Adults $8, seniors $7, with discounts for students and pass holders.
Tip: Located about 45 minutes south of Lynchburg; wear comfortable shoes to explore the grounds and river overlooks.
Closing Reflection
From the uproar over the Sugar and Stamp Acts to the fiery words spoken in Richmond, Patrick Henry gave voice to a restless people. His courage and conviction earned his the moniker, “Voice of the Revolution.”
Please come back next week to read the next post in the series, “The Gunpowder Incident.
Do you Know: James Otis Jr., the Early Voice for American Liberty
James Otis (Image in the public domain)
James Otis Jr. was one of the first colonists to speak boldly against British rule. In 1761, this talented Boston lawyer argued against the Crown’s “writs of assistance,” meaning open-ended search warrants that let officials enter homes whenever they wished. His powerful words made a deep impression on those who heard them, especially a young John Adams, who later said that Otis’s speech was the moment when “the child independence was born.”
Otis believed strongly that people had natural rights and that even the British government had no authority to violate them. His ideas helped shape the early arguments for liberty that other patriots would soon use.
Sadly, Otis’s life took a difficult turn after he was badly injured during a political dispute in 1769. The head injury affected his health and kept him from playing a major role in the Revolution he helped inspire. He died in 1783 in a sudden accident—struck by lightning—bringing a dramatic end to the life of a man whose early courage helped set the colonies on the path to independence.
I saw the grave of James Otis when walking the Freedom Trail in Boston. It’s in the Old Burying Grounds on top of the hill.
