1884.I 
7i3 
Wohler and Liebig. 
“ At any rate it is high time for us to take a good airing, 
to bathe ourselves in the pure mountain air, and to keep 
away for some time from everything like chemistry. Your 
invitation to the Odenwald is very tempting, but Nature 
there is on too small a scale for me. If I am to recover I 
must have the sea and snow-covered mountains. Why 
won’t you come to Naples with me ? The beauty and 
splendour of that scenery are beyond all description, and to 
have stood on the brink of a volcano is worth something, 
for all you say.” 
In vain ; Liebig is not to be persuaded, so Wohler is 
forced to undertake the journey in company of another 
friend. 
Wohler to Liebig. 
“ Mentone, March 30, 1870. 
“ The heaven is grey to-day ; the wind is in the east ; 
from our windows we can hear the loud surging of the sea ; 
swarms of sea-gulls seek for their prey on the dancing 
waves. In the end one gets tired of looking at all this, and 
is quite content to take up a book or to settle down to letter- 
writing. I am not allowed to go out to-day, having caught 
cold on a drive to Nice, on a day when the heat was very 
great. I won’t tire you with a description of our journey, 
which was rather cold until we came to the sea, to Toulon, 
where we plunged all at once into an abundance of warmth 
and green leaves. There is hardly anything more beautiful 
than the railway road along the coast, with the view on the 
blue sea, with its bays and promontories. At Toulon we 
saw the first date trees, which stand out so clearly against 
the blue sky and the sea. Mentone is but a small town, 
built partly up the steep coast, and containing several good 
hotels, with beautiful gardens by the sea. In the early 
morning, when the sun has not yet quite risen and the air 
is clear, we can see quite distinctly from our windows the 
hilly coast of Corsica.” 
When Wohler is by adverse circumstances denied the 
pleasure of travelling with Liebig, he flies to the Lake of 
Geneva, to his beloved Montreux. In letters to his friend 
he often speaks of that most beautiful spot “offering the 
view on the glorious blue lake and the mountains of Savoie.’* 
In January, 1872, after having gazed from the window of 
his study, the garden covered with snow, and the leafless 
trees that look like broomsticks, he writes to Liebig : — 
VOL. VI. (THIRD SERIES) 3 B 
