A favorite subject in the  eighteenth-century was the parallel lives of a pair of boys whose lives diverged after childhood and went in radically different directions.   Probably the most famous one was William Hogarth’s Industry and Idleness (1747), a narrative in twelve engravings about two apprentices, one who rose to be Lord Mayor of London, the other hung as a murderer.

Because girls do not figure so often in stories of this kind (leading much more circumscribed lives than boys), Cotsen was delighted to acquire a pair of mezzotints contrasting the exemplary behavior of an industrious and an idle girl after Thomas Spence Duché, a pupil of Benjamin West who moved from Philadelphia to London during the American Revolution.   They were published by the London printseller Benjamin Beale Evans.

Thomas Lovegood (an imaginary name if there ever were one), dedicates the first engraving “To all sweet tempered industrious & obedient children.”  A perfect example of such a girl is shown seated to the right of a table, holding open the crisp pages of the writing book to show her beautiful copies of round hand italic capitals.  Tight blonde ringlets frame her sweet, mild face and the sheer dress is arranged gracefully over her lap and modestly closed knees. The caption,   “Who would not be GOOD to look so lovely?”  holds out the promise that exemplary behavior will make beauty to bloom, and as we all know, all things come to a fine-looking girl with agreeable manners.

Badness, on the other hand, is always supposed to put on an unattractive face, so Mr. Lovechild has dedicated the second print “To all pouting lazy illtempered lying & disobedient children.”   This little miss certainly embodies all those disagreeable traits.  The wretched girl wears the same dress as the other one but sits in an ungainly and immodest pose, skirt rumpled, knees akimbo. Her book, open to the pictures, has the tell-tale sign of neglect, folded and creased pages.  Next to the book is a switch, which has probably been applied to her bottom The engraver is one Henry Birch, which Richard Earlom used as a pseudonym, but context suggests was a joke.  She stares out of the picture at the viewer while one hand plays with the tousled, messy hair on her temple.  “Who would be NAUGHTY to look so ugly?”  asks the title. Around her neck is a string threaded through a leather strip reading “Lyar.”  She is crowned with a dunce’s cap.  She ought to look ashamed for being publicly humiliated this way, but she doesn’t look particularly sorry for whatever it was she did to deserve this punishment.

Miss Sulky is not wearing the tall cone made of paper associated with schoolroom shaming of pupil or master.  Hers is a truly magnificent specimen, modelled on the cap and bells traditionally worn by Folly on the left of the cut below. (Minerva is seated to the right, holding out a book to the boy, who has to chose between the two of them.)  I have no idea what the meaning of symbols above the label on which “Dunce” is printed might be.St. Nicholas’ Day has already flown past, but there’s still time to clean up your act before Christmas Eve.  Which little girl will you remember?  Whose example will you take to heart?