The Belvedere on the Potomac stands on land shaped by nearly three centuries of water, work, conflict, and continuity.
Long before it carried a name, the property now known as The Belvedere existed because of the Potomac River.
Before private settlement, this land formed part of the vast proprietary holdings of Lord Thomas Fairfax, the Sixth Lord Fairfax of Cameron, who controlled more than five million acres of Northern Neck Virginia under grant from the British Crown. Fairfax’s ownership shaped the earliest legal and geographic framework of the region, as land was surveyed, patented, and conveyed to settlers who would transform wilderness into working farms, mills, and river communities.
By the late eighteenth century, portions of this land had passed into the hands of Rawleigh Colston, who acquired significant holdings along the Potomac as part of the broader Colston family estate. This acquisition placed the Colstons among the principal landholders at the river’s edge just as the region transitioned from frontier settlement into the early American republic.
By the early nineteenth century, stewardship of the riverfront holdings passed from Rawleigh Colston and his wife Elizabeth Marshall Colston to their son Edward Colston and his wife Sarah Jane Brockenbrough Colston. As Rawleigh and Elizabeth aged, Edward and Sarah Jane became the active owners and operators of the mill sites, river dwellings, and associated lands along Dam No. 5, managing the working landscape that tied milling, water power, and residence together at this bend of the Potomac.
When the C&O Canal Company constructed Dam No. 5 between 1833 and 1834, the dam did not create the importance of this site — it formalized it.
The dam fed the canal. The canal fed commerce. And commerce fed the homes and mills along its banks.
This pattern—construction, destruction, adaptation, and reuse—mirrors the broader history of the river and the property overlooking it.
Dam No. 5 was not an isolated structure, but part of a carefully engineered system of seven Potomac River dams designed to make the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal viable through difficult terrain. At this point along the river, steep banks, rocky ledges, and seasonal fluctuations made a conventional canal prism impractical.
Instead, canal engineers created a slackwater pool behind Dam No. 5, allowing canal boats to navigate directly on the river for a short distance before re‑entering the canal through This design reduced construction costs, conserved water, and minimized the number of lift locks required.
The dam’s location made it indispensable. When Dam No. 5 functioned, the canal functioned. When it failed, navigation—and coal supply to Washington—was immediately threatened.
A view of Dam #5 in 2022
The construction of Dam No. 5 and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal was not only an engineering undertaking, but a human one—carried out largely by Irish immigrant laborers newly arrived in America.
During the canal‑building era of the 1830s, rival Irish work gangs known as the Corkonians (men from County Cork) and the Fardowners or Longfords (from central Ireland, particularly County Longford) competed fiercely for employment along major infrastructure projects. These rivalries were not new; many of the men had been on opposing sides of local conflicts in Ireland before emigrating, and those tensions followed them across the Atlantic.
Near Dam No. 5, competition for canal jobs escalated into violent confrontation. Contemporary accounts describe large groups of laborers facing off near the dam site, fighting not over ideology or allegiance, but over access to work and survival. The conflict at Dam No. 5 became part of a broader pattern of Irish‑on‑Irish labor violence seen on canals and railroads throughout the young United States.
Long before soldiers arrived during the Civil War, this stretch of the Potomac had already witnessed struggle—driven by poverty, displacement, and the brutal realities of early American industrial expansion.
Before tracing ownership, war, or industry, one critical question must be addressed plainly:
At present, the answer remains unproven.
While the property is often associated with an estimated date of circa 1790, it is important to distinguish between ownership and construction. Available records suggest the land was held and conveyed around 1790, but no surviving deed, construction record, or contemporary description has yet been identified that definitively states when the house itself was constructed or who built it.
What is documented is the Colston family's early presence on the land and their role in establishing milling operations along the Potomac. The house may have been constructed by:
Until further documentary or architectural evidence emerges, the precise origin of the house must remain an open question.
This uncertainty is not unusual for properties of this age and, rather than diminishing the site’s importance, underscores the need for continued research.
Among the families most closely tied to this land were the Colstons.
Rawleigh Colston, a Virginia landowner of the late eighteenth century, established the family seat at Honeywood, building a substantial brick house on a hill overlooking the Potomac River. The bricks used in its construction were imported from England and brought upriver by flatboat — a detail later recorded by his grandson, William B. Colston.
Rawleigh Colston married Elizabeth Marshall, sister of Chief Justice John Marshall, connecting the family to one of Virginia’s most prominent legal lineages.
Their son, Edward Colston, received approximately 418 acres by deed along the Potomac River, including the land adjoining Dam No. 5 and the associated milling works. Edward married Sarah Jane Brockenbrough, daughter of Judge William Brockenbrough of the Virginia Court of Appeals.
By the mid-nineteenth century, the Colston property included:
With Virginia’s secession in 1861, the Potomac River hardened into a military boundary — and Dam No. 5 became a deliberate objective.
The Chesapeake & Ohio Canal supplied Washington, D.C., with coal from Cumberland, Maryland. Disabling the canal meant threatening the capital’s industrial power, transportation, and winter fuel supply. This reality drew the attention of Confederate commanders early in the war.
Between June 1861 and January 1862, Confederate forces mounted multiple, coordinated attempts to damage Dam No. 5. These were not symbolic raids. Under the direction of General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson, the efforts became sustained engineering operations carried out under fire, often at night and in freezing winter conditions.
In December 1861, these efforts culminated in two direct assaults on the dam. The first, conducted in early December under Paxton, tested Union defenses along the canal bank and confirmed the difficulty of dismantling the structure under fire. A second, more determined attempt followed later in the month under Colonel William B. Colston, again involving men working in the river while exposed to sustained musket and artillery fire from the Maryland side. Though neither assault succeeded in permanently destroying the dam, the fighting resulted in an estimated nineteen fatalities, with approximately ten Confederate soldiers and nine Union soldiers killed during the two engagements.
Union troops occupied the Maryland side of the river, converting the drained canal bed itself into a fortified rifle trench. Confederate soldiers worked from the Virginia shore, exposed to artillery and long-range musket fire, attempting to dismantle the dam’s wooden cribs and abutments by hand.
Jackson returned repeatedly to the site, adjusting tactics, employing diversions at Falling Waters and Williamsport, and committing men to exhausting labor in the river. The contest at Dam No. 5 was not a single battle but weeks of endurance, deception, and persistence, fought as much with crowbars and axes as with rifles.
The river, the dam, and the land beneath the house became an active front in Stonewall Jackson’s Shenandoah Valley campaign.
“If this plan succeeds, Washington will hardly get any further supply of coal during the war from Cumberland.”
— General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson, correspondence, December 1861
What distinguishes this property from most Civil War sites is not simply proximity to fighting, but first‑person testimony from a resident who participated in the action.
In his memoir, The Personal Experiences of Capt. W. B. Colston in the Civil War, William B. Colston wrote:
“This dam was situated on our own land, and we were thoroughly familiar with every part of it and the surrounding country.”
William B. Colston, born at Honeywood on April 25, 1836, son of Edward Colston and grandson of Rawleigh Colston, enlisted as a private in the company commanded by his older brother, Captain Raleigh T. Colston, of the 2nd Virginia Regiment. Because of their intimate knowledge of the site, Raleigh was placed in charge of a demolition detail tasked with damaging the dam.
The work was conducted primarily at night.
“On one occasion, a few days before Christmas, I spent the entire night in the river, the water reaching to my waist, endeavoring to break out one of the wooden abutments of the dam.” — Capt. W. B. Colston
Colston described intense cold, exhaustion, and repeated enemy fire. Though the damage inflicted by hand labor proved insufficient, later winter floods weakened the structure further.
“The amount of fatigue which the men endured, laboring, as they constantly did, waist-deep in water, and in the intense cold of winter, can never be sufficiently appreciated.” — Major Robert Dabney
“The men lacked even the luxury of a campfire on the shore to warm themselves by, as no blazes were permitted so close to the enemy. The abstentious (Stonewall) Jackson, however, was more generous than usual with the whiskey stores that night.” — Author Jason Barrett, “Stonewall Assaults Dam No. 5”
As Confederate operations intensified along the Potomac, civilian life on the Colston property became untenable.
William B. Colston recorded that his mother and sisters were forced to evacuate, seeking refuge farther south with relatives. Confederate troops camped on familiar Colston land, including Medway, another family-associated property nearby.
Contemporary newspapers reported cannon fire, casualties, and abandoned tools — axes, picks, crowbars — left behind after forced withdrawals. Union cavalry crossed the dam and scoured the Virginia countryside.
Through all of this, the principal structures associated with the mill endured.
When the war ended, William B. Colston returned to the property:
“I resumed my residence upon the old place…”
The mills, houses, and land were not abandoned relics, but working places restored after hardship. Although fortunes were diminished and structures damaged, life along the river resumed.
Over time, the canal closed, milling ceased, and ownership changed. Names evolved. The house endured.
By the late nineteenth century, the era that had given birth to Dam No. 5 was coming to a close.
Railroads steadily eclipsed canals as the dominant mode of transportation, and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal—long plagued by floods, costly repairs, and wartime damage—entered a slow decline. Although portions of the canal remained operational into the early twentieth century, its role as a primary commercial artery faded.
Dam No. 5, however, did not lose its relevance.
Instead of feeding canal boats, the dam was repurposed to harness hydroelectric power. By the early 1900s, private power interests recognized that the same controlled drop in the Potomac River that once served commerce could now serve electricity generation. Infrastructure was added, modified, and reinforced. The river, once again, dictated the future.
The transition marked a new industrial chapter: from flour and transport to turbines and current.
As power companies acquired rights to the dam and surrounding infrastructure, Dam No. 5 underwent further modernization. Stonework replaced earlier timber elements. Mechanical systems were updated. Control over the river became more precise, less seasonal, and less dependent on human labor.
This period brought stability to the river but also separation: the dam was no longer a community hub of millers, boatmen, and farmers. It became a managed industrial asset.
Yet the historic structures nearby—including the former Colston dwellings—remained.
While the river was engineered for modern needs, the houses along its banks continued to evolve more quietly, shaped not by industry but by ownership.
After the Colston era, the house that would one day be known as The Belvedere passed through a series of owners. Each brought a different relationship to the property:
Rather than erasing the past, successive owners added layers of character—alterations, restorations, gardens, porches, and interior refinements that reflected the tastes and values of their time.
What makes the house remarkable is not architectural purity, but continuity. It was never abandoned. Never erased. Never rebuilt beyond recognition.
The river remained constant. The house adapted.
The name “The Belvedere” is modern. The history is not.
Today, the property stands as the cumulative result of centuries:
Few properties can claim such a continuous relationship with both water and human activity.
The Potomac still flows past the dam. The house still watches from above.
History at the Belvedere is not silent. It survives through words left behind by those who lived, labored, and fought here.
“This dam was situated on our own land, and we were thoroughly familiar with every part of it and the surrounding country.”
— William B. Colston, Civil War memoir
“If this plan succeeds, Washington will hardly get any further supply of coal during the war from Cumberland.”
— General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson, December 1861
“The enemy turned the water out of the canal and used it as a rifle pit, and succeeded in driving our men away.”
— Union account, December 1861
Together, these voices describe the same place from opposing banks of the river—one land, one dam, one contested flow of water.
What once drew millers, laborers, soldiers, and engineers now draws people for a different purpose.
Today, the Belvedere serves as a place of gathering and connection, welcoming guests from across the country for:
The river that once powered mills and shaped military strategy now frames moments of joy, reflection, and human connection. Boats pass where canal traffic once moved. Laughter replaces cannon fire. The setting remains constant, even as its use evolves.
This continuity is not accidental. It reflects a long tradition of stewardship—honoring the past while allowing the property to remain alive.
The Belvedere endures not as a relic, but as a place still fulfilling its oldest purpose: bringing people together at the water’s edge.
Honeywood was constructed nearby, and milling activity developed along the river. The precise construction date of the nearby river dwellings—including the house now known as The Belvedere—remains unproven.
This conversion marks a pivotal transition in the site’s history—from water‑driven commerce and milling to modern power generation—extending the dam’s usefulness well beyond the canal era.
The house now known as The Belvedere does not announce its origins with a single construction date or named builder. Instead, it reflects a process of evolution, common to early American river properties.
Key characteristics suggest phased development:
It remains unclear whether the structure began as:
What is clear is continuity: the house adapted across eras without being erased.
The Civil War reached the banks of the Potomac here not as an abstract campaign, but as a sustained, physical ordeal directed by one of the Confederacy’s most consequential commanders: General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson.
Between December 1861 and January 1862, Stonewall Jackson personally planned and oversaw multiple attempts to disable Dam No. 5, recognizing that its destruction could cripple the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal and disrupt coal supplies to Washington, D.C. These operations were not symbolic raids; they were methodical engineering efforts conducted under fire, in winter conditions, and often at night.
For the Colston family, Jackson’s campaign was not fought on distant ground. It unfolded on their own land.
William B. Colston’s diary and memoir provide rare first-person testimony of Jackson’s campaign from the perspective of a resident-soldier. Colston described working waist-deep in the Potomac River, attempting to dismantle the dam’s wooden abutments while Union fire swept the river from the Maryland shore. His older brother, Captain Raleigh T. Colston, was selected to lead demolition details precisely because of his intimate knowledge of the dam and surrounding terrain—knowledge gained through a lifetime living beside it.
Stonewall Jackson returned repeatedly to the site, adjusting tactics, employing diversions at Falling Waters and Williamsport, and committing men to exhausting labor that tested the limits of endurance. Civilians evacuated. Confederate troops camped on familiar lawns. Family property became operational ground in Jackson’s Shenandoah Valley campaign.
After Jackson’s withdrawal, and after the war itself had passed, life resumed along the river—not unchanged, but continuous. The house endured, bearing silent witness to a moment when one of the Civil War’s defining figures brought the conflict directly to its doorstep.
From the Colstons forward, stewardship of the property has been defined less by ownership and more by continuity.
Each generation adapted the house to its needs while preserving its essential character. Industrial use gave way to residential care; utility yielded to preservation.
The modern stewards of The Belvedere continue this tradition—maintaining a place shaped by water, work, conflict, and time.
The river flows. The house endures. The story continues.
Monday - Friday, 9:30 am – 5:30 pm
Email: belvedere@dem360.com
Phone: 301-988-8383
3632 Vineyard Rd.
Falling Waters, WV 25419
