self-interest exclusively; and the boy becomes a cub and a mean thief, and the girl marries, quite without love, a certain blustering Mr. Bounderby, and is as nearly as possible led astray by the first person who approaches her with the language of gallantry and sentiment.  Mr. Bounderby, her husband, is, one may add, a man who, in mere lying bounce, makes out his humble origin to be more humble than it is.  On the other side of the picture are Mr. Sleary and his circus troupe; and Cissy Jupe, the daughter of the clown; and the almost saintly figures of Stephen Blackpool, and Rachel, a working man and a working woman.  With these people facts are as naught, and self-interest as dust in the balance.  Mr. Sleary has a heart which no brandy-and-water can harden, and he enables Mr. Gradgrind to send off the wretched cub to America, refusing any guerdon but a glass of his favourite beverage.  The circus troupe are kindly, simple, loving folk.  Cissy Jupe proves the angel of the Gradgrind household.  Stephen is the victim of unjust persecution on the part of his own class, is suspected, by young Gradgrind’s machinations, of the theft committed by that young scoundrel, falls into a disused pit as he is coming to vindicate his character, and only lives long enough to forgive his wrongs, and clasp in death the hand of Rachel—­a hand which in life could not be his, as he had a wife alive who was a drunkard and worse.  A marked contrast, is it not?  On one side all darkness, and on the other all light.  The demons of fact and self-interest opposed to the angels of fancy and unselfishness.  A contrast too violent unquestionably.  Exaggeration is the fault of the novel.  One may at once allow, for instance, that Rachel and Stephen, though human nature in its infinite capacity may include such characters, are scarcely a typical working woman and working man.  But then neither, heaven be praised, are Coupeau the sot, and Gervaise the drab, in M. Zola’s “Drink”—­and, for my part, I think Rachel and Stephen the better company.

“Sullen socialism”—­such is Macaulay’s view of the political philosophy of “Hard Times.”  “Entirely right in main drift and purpose”—­such is the verdict of Mr. Ruskin.  Who shall decide between the two? or, if a decision be necessary, then I would venture to say, yes, entirely right in feeling.  Dickens is right in sympathy for those who toil and suffer, right in desire to make their lives more human and beautiful, right in belief that the same human heart beats below all class distinctions.  But, beyond this, a novelist only, not a philosopher, not fitted to grapple effectively with complex social and political problems, and to solve them to right conclusions.  There are some things unfortunately which even the best and kindest instincts cannot accomplish.