William Hogarth, Industry and Idleness 1

When I first came across this series of prints, I was still in college, and I was deeply confused about where my life would take me. In hindsight, a part of my problem was the very wording of my question, because I should have been more concerned about where I would take my life. 

I had long been told about the importance of hard work, and yet I did not bind my diligence to a sense of joyful duty. While they told me I could be successful if I put in the effort, I was not impressed by the prospect of riches and fame, only coming to appreciate intense labor once I discovered some deeper values worth living for. 

Please don't tell me a man is happy because he is rich, when it actually turns out that he is rich because he is happy. 

So much of Hogarth's work teaches us how virtue will raise us up, just as vice will drag us down, and it employs various images of prosperity and misery to drive the point home. This is a lesson worth learning, at any time or in any place, even if it is presented in an idealized manner. 

There is a danger, however, in treating the good fortune as an end in itself, instead of recognizing it as a consequence of a good character, an outward symbol for an inner commitment. As a child, I wondered what it meant to live "happily ever after" in the fairy tales, and if it was merely about defeating the dragon and winning the heart of the princess. Was the prince still a hero if he tried his best and fell in battle? 

I unfortunately know of far too many noble souls who have done precisely the right thing, only to never receive any earthly reward. I am hesitant to follow those who insist that hard work alone will bring us our happiness, without building upon the foundation of a healthy conscience. 

Our circumstances can be fickle, often unfolding in a way that has no connection to our merits, but what fascinates me about Hogarth's scenario is how both Thomas Idle and Francis Goodchild begin with exactly the same opportunities, and then end up making such radically different choices. In this particular narrative, no one has an unfair advantage, and no one has gotten a raw deal: it almost plays out like a moral experiment under identical conditions. 

The two apprentices are in service to one master weaver, and are asked to perform equal tasks. Nevertheless, Thomas is asleep at his loom, while Francis is at the top of his game. What may at first appear to be the trivial difference between having a good day and having a bad day is really grounded in the most basic judgments about what is "good" and what is "bad". 

One copy of The Prentice's Guide is neglected, while the other is well cared for. Thomas is more concerned with his beer and tobacco, and reading the latest novels, while Francis does not allow himself to be distracted, and keeps up with the local news. 

The Master does not look angry at Thomas—only disappointed. I know that look all too well, and I am now grateful that it eventually had some effect on me. 

The items in the frame are premonitions of their respective futures: to the left, a whip, shackles, and a hanging rope; to the right, a mace, a ceremonial sword, and a chain of gold. 

I have no problem with the cat being a cat, but I do frown upon Thomas not shooing the cat. 

What's that? You say Thomas is at least having some fun, and Francis just looks like a square? Yet regardless of what may come, Thomas is hung over, and Francis is smiling. Maybe it only sounds stuffy to someone who expects to receive and never intends to give. Be careful where you seek your contentment. 

Proverbs 23:21 

The Drunkard shall come to
Poverty, and drowsiness shall
clothe a Man with rags. 

Proverbs 10:4 

The hand of the diligent
maketh rich. 

William Hogarth, Industry and Idleness 1: The Fellow 'Prentices at Their Looms (1747)