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we have to solve. No one will call the action of the spider instinctive in voiding the fluid from her spinning gland when it is too full, and therefore painful to her; nor that of the male fish when it does what amounts to much the same thing as this. The instinct and the marvel lie in the fact that the spider spins threads, and proceeds to weave her web with them, and that the male fish will only impregnate ova of his own species.

Another proof that the pleasure felt in the employment of an organ is wholly inadequate to account for this employment is to be found in the fact that the moral greatness of instinct, the point in respect of which it most commands our admiration, consists in the obedience paid to its behests, to the postponement of all personal well-being, and at the cost, it may be, of life itself. If the mere pleasure of relieving certain glands from overfulness were the reason why caterpillars generally spin webs, they would go on spinning until they had relieved these glands, but they would not repair their work as often as any one destroyed it, and do this again and again until they die of exhaustion. The same holds good with the other instincts that at first sight appear to be inspired only by a sensation of pleasure; for if we change the circumstances, so as to put self-sacrifice in the place of self-interest, it becomes at once apparent that they have a higher source than this. We think, for example, that birds pair for the sake of mere sexual gratification; why, then, do they leave off pairing as soon as they have laid the requisite number, of eggs? That there is a reproductive instinct over and above the desire for sexual gratification appears from the fact that if a man takes an egg out of the nest, the birds will come together again and the hen will lay another egg; or, if they belong to some of the more wary species, they will desert their nest, and make preparation for an entirely new brood.- A female wryneck, whose nest was daily robbed of the egg she laid in it, continued to lay a new one, which grew smaller and smaller, till, when she had laid her twenty-ninth egg, she was found dead upon her nest. If an instinct cannot stand the test of self-sacrifice— if it is the simple outcome of a desire for bodily gratification—then it is no true instinct, and is only so called erroneously.

Instinct is not a mechanism of brain or mind implanted in living beings by nature; for, if it were, then instinctive action without any, even unconscious, activity of mind, and with no conception concerning the purpose of the action, would be executed mechanically, the purpose having been once for all thought out by Nature or Providence, which has so organised the individual that it acts henceforth as a purely mechanical medium. We are now dealing with a psychical organisation as the cause of instinct, as we were above dealing with a physical. A psychical organisation would be a conceivable explanation, and we need look no farther if every instinct once belonging to an animal discharged its functions in an unvarying manner. But this is never found to be the case, for all instincts vary when there arises a sufficient motive for varying them. This proves that special exterior circumstances enter into the matter, and that these circumstances are the very things that render the attainment of the purpose possible through means selected by the instinct. Here first do we find instinct acting as though it were actually design with action following at its heels, for, until the arrival of the motive, the instinct remains latent and discharges no function whatever. The motive enters by way of an idea received into the mind through the instrumentality of the senses, and there is a constant connection between instinct in action and all sensual images which give information that an opportunity has arisen for attaining the ends proposed to itself by the instinct.

The psychical mechanism of this constant connection must also be looked for. It may help us here to turn to the piano for an illustration. The struck keys are the motives, the notes that sound in consequence are the instincts in action. This illustration might perhaps be allowed to pass (if we also suppose that entirely different keys can give out the same sound) if instincts could only be compared with distinctly tuned notes, so that one and the same instinct acted always in the same manner on the arising of the motive which should set it in action. This, however, is not so; for it is the blind unconscious purpose of the instinct that is alone constant, the instinct itself—that is to say, the will to make use of certain means — varying as the means that can be most suitably employed vary under varying circumstances.

In this we condemn the theory which refuses to recognise unconscious purpose as present in each individual case of instinctive action. For he who maintains instinct to be the result of a mechanism of mind, must suppose a special and constant mechanism for each variation and modification of the instinct in accordance with exterior circumstances,1 that is to say, a new string giving a note with a new tone must be inserted, and this would involve the mechanism in endless complication. But the fact that the purpose is constant notwithstanding all manner of variation in the means chosen by the instinct, proves that there is no necessity for the supposition of such an elaborate mental mechanism —the presence of an unconscious purpose being sufficient to explain the facts. The purpose of the bird, for example, that has laid her eggs is constant, and consists in the desire to bring her young to maturity. When the temperature of the air is insufficient to effect this, she sits upon her eggs, and only intermits her sittings in the warmest countries; the mammal, on the other hand, attains the fulfilment of its instinctive purpose without any co-operation on its own part. In warm climates many birds only sit by night, and small exotic birds that have built in aviaries kept at a high temperature sit little upon their eggs or not at all. How inconceivable is the supposition of a mechanism that impels the bird to sit as soon as the temperature

1 "Hiermit ist der Annahme das Urtheil gesprochen, welche die unbewusste Vorstellung des Zwecks in jedem einzelnen Falle vorwiegt; denn wollte man nun noch die Vorstellung des Geistes-mechanismus festhalten, so müsste fUr jede Variation und Modification des Instincts, nach den ausseren Umstanden, eine besondere constante Vorrichtung . . . eingefügt sein."—Philosophy of the Unconscious, 3d ed., p. 74.

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