The Fetich of Early Rising

THE CONTRIBUTORS’ CLUB

“Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning” is a text which I have never yet heard expounded from any pulpit. On the contrary, I have heard and read many exhortations to early rising as one of the most wholesome and remunerative of the virtues. It is invariably recommended to young men as essential to success, and its obligation is enforced by a long list of examples. Not only is the millionaire business man, like the late P. D. Armour, wont to be an early riser, but even those embodiments of otherworldliness, the novelists, have been accustomed, from Scott’s day to Mr. Crockett’s, to do their best work before breakfast. A character otherwise wrecked is not considered utterly graceless if this one trait survives. The popular scale of values was correctly understood by the clergyman who, having to officiate at the funeral of a notoriously wicked citizen, followed up his biographical sketch of the deceased with the tribute: “Our dead friend had one noble virtue. He always got up early in the morning.”

This virtue, too, serves as a criterion in the judgment of nations as well as individuals. Many tests have been suggested, at one time and another, for estimating the comparative civilization and prosperity of different countries, — their consumption of soap, their expenditure on automobiles, their proportion of Ph. D.’s to the general population, etc. It has not escaped the keen insight of the modern journalist that the future progress of the world may be predicted by looking at the clock. If one nation is in the street while another is still in bed, no resources of intelligence or wealth can save the second nation from going under. Not long ago I read a sober article in which an elaborate proof of England’s decadence was clinched by the crowning argument that Englishmen do not get up so early in the morning as Americans.

To disparage this revered quality must appear very much like running atilt at the wisdom of the ages. It is surprising that the very people who claim to be the most practical and the most independent of mere tradition are in this matter regulated by ancient convention. Strangely enough, it is precisely the up-to-date twentieth - century “hustler,” eager for the reputation of no longer doing things in the old way, who is most ready to accept the rustiest maxims as his guide in the solution of new problems. When we begin to ask what advantage the early riser actually has over the late riser, the answer is not very prompt, and it usually shows a confusion between two cases that need to be kept carefully apart.

The first form of the problem is presented when the early and the late riser, though getting up at different times, work the same number of hours daily. This is how the matter stands as between the English and the American practice. The latitude of London is ten degrees north of that of New York, with the result of a far greater variation in the hour of sunrise throughout the year. The darkness of winter mornings in England is sufficient to explain why it is found desirable to begin the day’s work rather later there than is usual here. But you cannot say that one bank, for instance, must needs be an effete and crumbling institution because it is open from ten to four, and that another must be a flourishing and vigorous concern because it is open from nine to three. It may be argued, of course, that the earlier the hour the better the quality of the work. This applies, however, only when freedom from interruption and disturbance is an important consideration. One may certainly study to greater profit before the noises begin about the house. Yet this advantage would be destroyed, ex hypothesi, in proportion as early rising became a general practice, for in a house full of early risers the quiet of the dawn would disappear. And most people’s work is, in the main, of such a kind that it can only be done when the rest of the world is awake. Even the business that is transacted through the telephone requires a man at the other end. Where, then, the total working day is of the same length, it cannot reasonably be alleged that the early riser is ipso facto more industrious than the late riser, or that early rising attains to the rank of a virtue.

There remains to be investigated a second situation, — where the early riser has a longer working day than the late riser. This is the condition most commonly in mind in discussions of the subject. It is taken for granted that the longer period of activity implies proportionately greater diligence and greater results. Enthusiastic advocates of early rising sometimes talk as though an hour added to one’s working day meant a distinct addition to one’s total assets of energy. The belief that one may become stronger by getting up early is fostered by instances of the longevity of early risers. The fact should be stated the other way about; what happens is not that early risers live long, but that persons who live long have been early risers. If a physical constitution is so much sounder than the average that it takes its possessor to eighty or ninety, it is likely also to be able to stand the strain of an exceptional expenditure of energy day by day throughout life. It is absurd to suppose that there can be any physical benefit in the exercise of either body or mind beyond what is required for health. The early riser can have no greater resources to draw upon than the late riser.

Let us now watch what occurs in the case of an early riser who, starting with the same physical and mental equipment, attempts to gain upon a rival by working an hour longer daily. Assume, first, that in lengthening his day he tries to work at the same pressure as before. After a while he discovers that the continued effort tells both upon his own capacity and upon the efficiency of his work. In short, he runs up against the Law of Diminishing Returns, which, long familiar in agriculture, is now found to be a sovereign authority in other provinces also. This law is to-day so clearly recognized in education that research has collected many warning statistics as to the point of fatigue. An excellent illustration of its operation is given in the following extract from a young man’s diary: “Got up at five to study; had a headache all day, must n’t waste time like this again.” An equally sensible conclusion was that of Archbishop Whately. Only once in his life, he said, had he risen early; and then he felt so conceited all the morning and so sleepy all the afternoon that he never repeated the experiment. The mischief of a programme which tempts a man to a greater output of energy than his constitution can afford is understood when the calculation deals with larger spaces of time. We all admit the necessity of the annual holiday. We agree with the lawyer who said that he could do a year’s work in eleven months but not in twelve. We can appreciate, too, the value of a weekly rest-day. We need also to apply the same considerations on a smaller scale, when we shall discover that a too prolonged exercise of activity may be disastrous both to the worker and to his work.

But it is possible that, when the day is lengthened, the pressure is not kept up to the same level. This happens in many instances where a man begins with a tremendous spurt, finds himself after a while in sight of a breakdown, and slackens to an easier pace. We have, therefore, now to examine the case of the man who, as a result of earlier rising, works an hour a day longer than his rival, but accomplishes in his x + 1 hours no more than the other gets through in x. When this happens, early rising, so far from being a virtue, is obviously a vice. It promotes the demoralizing habit of dawdling, and makes it more and more difficult to concentrate the attention. It leads to a slovenly fashion of thinking and acting, and impairs one’s capacity of doing quick, clean work. In this situation it is the early, not the late, riser who “loses” or “wastes” his time. He loses one full hour daily, which the late riser can devote to recreation or some other wholesome purpose. And it is to the early riser — the dawdler — that should be addressed the warnings by which the sages, from time immemorial, have endeavored to reform the sluggard.

But it is time to return to my text. The passage from Isaiah with which I headed this little homily is perhaps unfamiliar to many of my readers, and they will probably have looked it up in the Concordance, only to declare me guilty of the offense of garbling my quotations. “The words are actually in the Bible,” they will say, “but they should not be torn away from their context.” Very well: let us have the whole passage, for it aptly enforces my next point. “Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning, that they may follow strong drink.” This denunciation emphasizes the fact that the moral quality of early rising is profoundly affected by its object. Early rising, at its utmost, is only a means to an end, and if the end is evil the use of the means must be blameworthy. This is so evident a truth that it can scarcely escape being called a truism, yet every eulogy of early rising, as in itself a proof of merit, overlooks it. A student of ethics might easily compile a list of variations of the prophetic “Woe,” as adapted to the peculiar temptations of twentieth-century America, and his code would startle those who believe that the secret of an upright life lies in the regulation of the alarum-clock.

On the whole, then, early rising is a practice that will not stand unbiased analysis. When it is adopted for the sake of some good end, its advantages are largely illusory, to say the least; and when it is an instrument in the hands of the evil-doer there is reflected upon it something of the immorality of the deed. Yet proverbial philosophy is not utterly to be contemned. The adage which declares eight hours’ sleep to be the proper allowance for a fool is wholly commendable. That man must indeed be a fool who is content with eight when he can get nine.