“Long live the Republic,” she wrote in her letters.  “What a dream and what enthusiasm, and then, too, what behaviour, what order in Paris.  I have just arrived, and I saw the last of the barricades.  The people are great, sublime, simple and generous, the most admirable people in the universe.  I spent nights without any sleep and days without sitting down.  Every one was wild and intoxicated with delight, for after going to sleep in the mire they have awakened in heaven."(39)

     (39) Correspondance:  To Ch.  Poncy, March 9, 1848.

She goes on dreaming thus of the stars.  Everything she hears, everything she sees enchants her.  The most absurd measures delight her.  She either thinks they are most noble, liberal steps to have taken, or else they are very good jokes.

“Rothschild,” she writes, “expresses very fine sentiments about liberty at present.  The Provisional Government is keeping him in sight, as it does not wish him to make off with his money, and so will put some of the troops on his track.  The most amusing things are happening.”  A little later on she writes:  “The Government and the people expect to have bad deputies, but they have agreed to put them through the window.  You must come, and we will go and see all this and have fun."(40)

     (40) Correspondance: To Maurice Sand, March 24, 1848.

She was thoroughly entertained, and that is very significant.  We must not forget the famous phrase that sounded the death-knell of the July monarchy, “La France s’ennuie.”  France had gone in for a revolution by way of being entertained.

George Sand was entertained, then, by what was taking place.  She went down into the street where there was plenty to see.  In the mornings there were the various coloured posters to be read.  These had been put up in the night, and they were in prose and in verse.

Processions were also organized, and men, women and children, with banners unfurled, marched along to music to the Hotel de Ville, carrying baskets decorated with ribbons and flowers.  Every corporation and every profession considered itself bound in honour to congratulate the Government and to encourage it in its well-doing.  One day the procession would be of the women who made waistcoats or breeches, another day of the water-carriers, or of those who had been decorated in July or wounded in February; then there were the pavement-layers, the washerwomen, the delegates from the Paris night-soil men.  There were delegates, too, from the Germans, Italians, Poles, and most of the inhabitants of Montmartre and of Batignolles.  We must not forget the trees of Liberty, as George Sand speaks of meeting with three of these in one day.  “Immense pines,” she writes, “carried on the shoulders of fifty working-men.  A drum went first, then the flag, followed by bands of these fine tillers of the ground, strong-looking, serious men with wreaths of leaves on their head, and a spade, pick-axe or hatchet over their shoulder.  It was magnificent; finer than all the Roberts in the world."(41) Such was the tone of her letters.