# Works of Jules Verne/The Watch's Soul/Chapter 2

CHAPTER II
THE PRIDE OF SCIENCE
THE severity of a Geneva merchant in business matters has become proverbial. He is rigidly honorable, and excessively just. What must, then, have been the shame of Master Zacharius, when he saw these watches, which he had so carefully constructed, returning to him from every direction?
​It was certain that these watches had suddenly stopped, and without any apparent reason. The wheels were in a good condition and firmly fixed, but the springs had lost all elasticity. Vainly did the watchmaker try to replace them; the wheels remained motionless. These unaccountable derangements were greatly to the old man's discredit. His noble inventions had many times brought upon him suspicions of sorcery, which now seemed confirmed. These rumors reached Gerande, and she often trembled for her father, when she saw the malicious glances directed towards him.
Yet on the morning after this night of anguish, Master Zacharius seemed to resume work with some confidence. The morning sun inspired him with some courage. Aubert hastened to join him in the shop, and received an affable "good-day."
"I am getting on better," said the old man. "I don't know what strange troubles of the head attacked me yesterday, but the sun has quite chased them away, with the clouds of the night."
"In faith, master," returned Aubert, "I don't like the night for either of us!"
"And thou art right, Aubert. If you ever become a superior man, you will understand that day is as necessary to you as food. A man of merit owes himself to the homage of the rest of mankind who recognize his worth."
"Master, it seems to me that the pride of science has possessed you."
"Pride, Aubert! Destroy my past, annihilate my present, dissipate my future, and then it will be permitted to me to live in obscurity! Poor boy, who comprehends not the sublime things to which my art is wholly devoted! Art thou not but a tool in my hands?"
"Yet, Master Zacharius," resumed Aubert, "I have more than once merited your praise for the manner in which I adjusted the most delicate pieces of your watches and clocks."
"No doubt, Aubert; thou art a good workman, such as I love; but when thou workest, thou thinkest thou hast in thy hands but copper, silver, gold; thou dost not perceive these metals, which my genius animates, palpitating like ​living flesh! Thus thou wouldst not die, with the death of thy works!"
Master Zacharius remained silent after these words; but Aubert essayed to keep up the conversation. "Indeed, master," said he, "I love to see you work so unceasingly! You will be ready for the festival of our corporation, for I see that the work on this crystal watch is going forward famously."
"No doubt, Aubert," cried the old watchmaker, "and it will be no slight honor for me to have been able to cut and shape the crystal to the durability of a diamond! Ah, Louis Berghen did well to perfect the art of diamond-cutting, which has enabled me to polish and pierce the hardest stones!"
Master Zacharius was holding several small watch pieces of cut crystal, and of exquisite workmanship. The wheels, pivots, and box of the watch were of the same material, and he had employed remarkable skill in this very difficult task. "Would it not be fine," said he, his face flushing, "to see this watch palpitating beneath its transparent envelope, and to be able to count the very beatings of its heart?"
"I will wager, sir," replied the young apprentice, "that it will not vary a second in a year."
"And you would wager on a certainty! Have I not imparted to it all that is purest of myself? And does my heart itself vary?"
Aubert did not dare to lift his eyes to his master's transfigured face.
"Tell me frankly," said the old man, sadly. "Have you never taken me for a fool? Do you not think me sometimes subject to dangerous folly? Yes; is it not? In my daughter's eyes and yours, I have often read my condemnation. Oh!" he cried, as if in pain, "to be not understood by those whom one most loves in the world! But I will prove victoriously to thee, Aubert, that I am right! Do not bow thy head, for thou wilt be stupefied. The day on which thou understandest how to listen to and comprehend me, thou wilt see that I have discovered the secrets of existence, the secrets of the mysterious union of the soul with the body!"
As he spoke thus, Master Zacharius appeared superb in ​his vanity. His eyes glittered with a supernatural fire, and his pride illumined every feature. And truly, if ever vanity was excusable, it was such vanity as that of Master Zacharius!
The watchmaker's art, indeed, down to his time, had remained almost in its infancy. From the day when Plato, four centuries before the Christian era, invented the night watch, a sort of clepsydra which indicated the hours of the night by the sound and playing of a flute, the science had continued nearly stationary. The masters paid more attention to the arts than to mechanics, and it was the period of beautiful watches of iron, copper, wood, silver, which were richly engraved, like one of Cellini's ewers. They made a masterpiece of chasing, which measured time very imperfectly, but was still a masterpiece. When the artist's imagination was not directed to the perfection of modeling, it sought to create clocks with moving figures and melodious sounds, which were put in operation in a very diverting fashion. Besides, who troubled himself, in those days, with regulating the advance of the hours? The delays of the law were not as yet invented; the physical and astronomical sciences had not as yet established their calculations on scrupulously exact measurements; there were neither establishments which were shut at a given hour, nor trains which departed at a precise moment. In the evening the curfew bell sounded; and at night the hours were cried amid the universal silence. Certainly people did not live so long, if existence is measured by the amount of business done; but they lived better. The mind was enriched with the noble sentiments born of the contemplation of masterpieces. They built a church in two centuries, a painter painted but few pictures in the course of his life, a poet only composed one great work; but these were so many masterpieces.
When the exact sciences began at last to make some progress, watch and clock making followed in their path, though it was always arrested by an insurmountable difficulty,—the regular and continuous measurement of time.
It was in the midst of this stagnation that Master Zacharius invented the escapement, which enabled him to obtain a mathematical regularity by submitting the movement of the pendulum to a constant force. This invention ​had turned the old man's head. Pride, swelling in his heart, like mercury in the thermometer, had attained the height of transcendent folly. By analogy he had allowed himself to be drawn to materialistic conclusions, and as he constructed his watches, he fancied that he had surprised the hitherto undiscovered secrets of the union of the soul with the body.
So it was that, on this day, perceiving that Aubert listened to him attentively, he said to him in a tone of simple conviction, "Dost thou know what life is, my child? Hast thou comprehended the action of those springs which produce existence? Hast thou examined thyself? No; and yet, with the eyes of science, thou mightst have seen the intimate relation which exists between God's work and my own, for it is from his creature that I have copied the combinations of the wheels of my clocks."
"Master," replied Aubert, eagerly, "can you compare a copper or steel machine with that breath of God which is called the soul, which animates our bodies, as the breeze lends motion to the flowers? What mechanism could be so adjusted as to inspire us with thought?"
"That is not the question," responded Master Zacharius, gently, but with all the obstinacy of a blind man walking towards an abyss. "In order to understand me, thou must recall the object of the escapement which I have invented. When I saw the irregular working of clocks, I understood that the movements shut up in them did not suffice, and that it was necessary to submit them to the regularity of some independent force. I then thought that the balance-wheel might accomplish this, and I succeeded in regulating the movement! Now, was it not a sublime idea that came to me, to return to it its lost force by the action of the clock itself, which it was charged with regulating?"
Aubert assented by a motion.
"Now, Aubert," continued the old man, growing animated, "cast thine eyes upon thyself! Dost thou not understand that there are two distinct forces in us, that of the soul and that of the body, that is, a movement and a regulator? The soul is the principle of life; that is, then, the movement. Whether it is produced by a weight, by a spring, or by an immaterial influence, it is none the less ​at the heart. But without the body this movement would be unequal, irregular, impossible! Thus the body regulates the soul, and, like the balance-wheel, it is submitted to regular oscillations. And this is so true, that one falls ill when one's drink, food, sleep—in a word, the functions of the body—are not properly regulated! As in my watches, the soul renders to the body the force lost by its oscillations. Well, what produces this intimate union between soul and body, if not a marvelous escapement, by which the wheels of the one work into the wheels of the other? This is what I have divined, applied; and there are no longer any secrets for me in this life, which is, after all, but an ingenious mechanism!"
Master Zacharius was sublime to see in this hallucination, which transported him to the ultimate mysteries of the infinite. But his daughter Gerande, standing on the threshold of the door, had heard all. She rushed into her father's arms, and he pressed her convulsively to his breast.
"What is the matter with thee, my daughter?" he asked.
"If I had only a spring here," said she, putting her hand on her heart, "I would not love you as I do, my father."
Master Zacharius looked intently at Gerande, and did not reply. Suddenly he uttered a cry, carried his hand eagerly to his heart, and fell fainting on his old leathern chair.
"Father, what is the matter?"
"Help!" cried Aubert. "Scholastique!"
But Scholastique did not come at once. Someone was knocking at the front door; she had gone to open it, and when she returned to the shop, before she could open her mouth, the old watchmaker, having recovered his senses, spoke: "I divine, my old Scholastique, that you bring me still another of those accursed watches which have stopped."
"O Lord, it is true enough!" replied Scholastique, handing a watch to Aubert.
"My heart could not be mistaken!" said the old man, with a sigh.
Aubert carefully adjusted the watch, but it would not go.
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