A song by Seraphino Aurelius Belladonna
Mine Own Invention
Three gears, a brass pressure vessel, and one complication confidently described as minor.
- From the album
- A Matter of Class: Roll Once, Die Loudly
- Album sequence
- Track 10 of 16
- First released
The matter at hand
What the song concerns
Scorch marks, explosions, airborne livestock, and the occasional barbarian propelled beyond the visible horizon have done nothing to diminish the artificer’s optimism. He does not regard these outcomes as failures; each is evidence that his machinery has revealed a possibility no one had previously thought to request.
Where the wizard trusts inherited knowledge and the fighter trusts discipline, the artificer trusts chiefly in himself. If the proper tool does not exist, he builds it—and whether it performs its intended purpose is a question he considers premature until after the demonstration. His companions may protest, but their continued commissions suggest that alarm and admiration are not mutually exclusive.
In his own estimation
Seraphino, upon its composition
To an artificer, a scorch mark is experience, an explosion a successful experiment conducted somewhat too enthusiastically, and a catastrophe merely evidence that the next attempt shall be magnificent. Such optimism made the character irresistible to me. Unlike the wizard, who trusteth ancient knowledge, or the fighter, who trusteth discipline, the artificer trusteth chiefly in himself. If no suitable tool existeth, he simply buildeth one. Whether it performeth its intended purpose is, in his estimation, a matter best evaluated after the demonstration.
I desired that the song celebrate not failure, but relentless invention. The artificer never loseth confidence because his machines occasionally fling chickens across the countryside or propel barbarians beyond the visible horizon. Such outcomes merely reveal possibilities previously undiscovered. Indeed, I suspect his companions protest far less than they pretend, for they continue returning to his workshop with new commissions despite every alarming precedent. There is something deeply admirable in such a soul: one who beholdeth the world not as it is, but as it might become after the addition of three gears, a brass pressure vessel, and what he confidently describeth as “a minor complication.” Were progress always sensible, history would remember far fewer names.
“Were progress always sensible, history would remember far fewer names.”