Fall of Fiers is the twelfth chapter of Samuel Johnson's book Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, about a trip he took in 1773. The previous chapter was Lough Ness and the next is Fort Augustus.
Towards
evening we crossed, by a
bridge, the
river which makes the
celebrated fall of
Fiers. The
country at the bridge strikes the
imagination with all the
gloom and
grandeur of
Siberian solitude.
The way makes a
flexure, and the
mountains, covered with
trees,
rise at once on the
left hand and in the front. We desired our
guides to show us the fall, and
dismounting,
clambered over very
rugged crags, till I began to
wish that our
curiosity might have
been
gratified with less
trouble and
danger. We came
at last to a
place where we could overlook the
river, and saw a
channel torn, as
it seems, through
black piles of stone, by which the
stream is
obstructed and
broken, till it comes to a very steep
descent, of
such
dreadful depth, that we were
naturally inclined to
turn aside
our
eyes.
But we visited the place at an unseasonable time, and found it
divested of its dignity and terror. Nature never gives every thing
at once. A long continuance of dry weather, which made the rest of
the way easy and delightful, deprived us of the pleasure expected
from the fall of Fiers. The river having now no water but what the
springs supply, showed us only a swift current, clear and shallow,
fretting over the asperities of the rocky bottom, and we were left
to exercise our thoughts, by endeavouring to conceive the effect of
a thousand streams poured from the mountains into one channel,
struggling for expansion in a narrow passage, exasperated by rocks
rising in their way, and at last discharging all their violence of
waters by a sudden fall through the horrid chasm.
The way now grew less easy, descending by an uneven declivity, but
without either dirt or danger. We did not arrive at Fort Augustus
till it was late. Mr. Boswell, who, between his father's merit and
his own, is sure of reception wherever he comes, sent a servant
before to beg admission and entertainment for that night. Mr.
Trapaud, the governor, treated us with that courtesy which is so
closely connected with the military character. He came out to meet
us beyond the gates, and apologized that, at so late an hour, the
rules of a garrison suffered him to give us entrance only at the
postern.