To gush over the workingman is one of the commonplaces of the day which
is utterly false and hypocritical. Just as in the 18th century sympathy
was with the simple hearted citizen, so today we talk about the
workingman. The term workingman can never be anything but a grammatical
common denominator. Among workingmen, as among the bourgeoisie, there
are all sorts of people. It is perfectly true that there are certain
characteristics, certain defects, which may be exaggerated in a given
class, because of its special environment and culture. The difference in
Spanish cities between the labouring man and the bourgeoisie is not very
great. We frequently see the workingman leap the barrier into the
bourgeoisie, and then disclose himself as a unique flower of knavery,
extortion and misdirected ingenuity. Deep down in the hearts of our
revolutionists, I do not believe that there is any real enthusiasm for
the workingman.
When the bookshop of Fernando Fé was still fin the Carrera de San
Jerónimo, I once heard Blasco Ibáñez say with the cheapness that is his
distinguishing trait, laughing meanwhile ostentatiously, that a republic
in Spain would mean the rule of shoemakers and of the scum of the
streets.