’It had been a very hot day, the evening was delightful, the dew moistened the parched grass, no wind was stirring; the air was fresh without chilliness, the setting sun had tinged the clouds with a beautiful crimson, which was again reflected by the water, and the trees bordering the terrace were filled with nightingales that were constantly answering each other’s songs.  I walked along in a kind of ecstasy, surrendering my heart and senses to the enjoyment of so many delights, and sighing only from regret at enjoying them alone.  Absorbed in this pleasing reverie, I lengthened my walk till it grew very late, without perceiving I was tired.  At length I threw myself on the steps of a kind of niche in a terrace wall.  How charming was that couch!  The trees formed a stately canopy, a nightingale sat directly over me, and with his soft notes lulled me to rest.  How delicious my repose! my awakening more so.  It was broad day; on opening my eyes, I saw the water, the verdure, and an adorable landscape before me.’

At the end of the Fourth Book he states his idea of beautiful scenery: 

’I love to walk at my ease and stop at leisure ... travelling on foot in a fine country with fine weather ... and having an agreeable object to terminate my journey.  It is already understood what I mean by a fine country; never can a flat one, though ever so beautiful, appear such to my eyes.  I must have torrents, fir trees, black woods, mountains to climb or descend, and rugged roads with precipices on either side to alarm me.  I experienced this pleasure to its utmost extent as I approached Chambery, not far from a mountain road called the Pas d’Echelle.  Above the main road, hewn through the solid rock, a small river runs and rushes into fearful chasms, which it appears to have been millions of ages in forming.  The road has been hedged by a parapet to prevent accidents, and I was thus enabled to contemplate the whole descent and gain vertigoes at pleasure, for a great part of my amusement in these steep rocks lies in their causing a giddiness and swimming in my head, which I am particularly fond of, provided I am in safety.  Leaning therefore on the parapet, I remained whole hours, catching from time to time a glance of the froth and blue water whose rushing caught my ear, mingled with the cries of ravens and other birds of prey that flew from rock to rock and bush to bush at 600 feet below me.’

His preference was for the wild and sublime, and he was glad that this was not a popular taste; but he could write glowing descriptions of more idyllic scenery and of village life.

He said of a day at the Charmettes, a property near Chambery, with his beloved friend Madame de Warens, at the end of 1736: 

’I arose with the sun and was happy; I walked and was happy; I saw Madame de Warens and was happy; I quitted her and still was happy.  Whether I rambled through the woods, over the hills, or strolled along the valley; read, was idle, worked in the garden, or gathered fruits, happiness continually accompanied me.’