THE WENZEL SCULPTURING MACHINE
In the basement of a large London business house we found, one dark November afternoon, two men at work with curious-looking frameworks, which they swayed backwards and forwards, up and down, to the accompaniment of a continuous clattering of metal upon stone. Approaching nearer, we saw, lying horizontally in the centre of the machine, a small marble statue, its feet clamped to a plate with deep notches in the circumference. On either side, at equal distances, were two horizontal blocks of marble similarly attached to similar plates. The workman had his eyes glued on a blunt-nosed pointer projecting from the middle of a balanced frame. This he passed slowly over the surface of the statue, and simultaneously two whirring drills also attached to the frame ate into the stone blocks just so far as the movement of the frame would permit. The drills were driven by electric power and made some thousands of revolutions per minute, throwing off the stone they bit away in the form of an exceedingly fine white dust.
It was most fascinating to watch the almost sentient performance of the drills. Just as a pencil in an artist's hands weaves line into line until they all suddenly spring into life and show their meaning, so did the drills chase apparently arbitrary grooves which united, spread, and finally revealed the rough-hewn limb.
Every now and then the machinist twisted the footplates round one notch, and snicked the retaining bolts into them. This exposed a fresh area of the statue and of the blocks to the pointer and the drills. The large, coarse drills used to clear away the superfluous material during the earlier stages of the work were replaced by finer points. The low relief was scooped out, the limbs moulded, the delicate curves of cheek and the pencilling of eyebrows and lips traced, and in a few hours the copies were ready for the usual smoothing and finishing at the hands of the human sculptor.
According to the capacity of the machine two, four, or six duplicates can be made at the cost of a little more power and time. Nor is it necessary to confine operations to stone and marble, for we were shown some admirable examples of wooden statues copied from a delicate little bronze, and, were special drills provided, the relations could be reversed, bronze becoming passive to motions controlled by a wooden original.
"Sculpturing made easy" would be a tempting legend to write over the Wenzel machine. But it would not represent the truth. After all, the mechanism only copies, it cannot originate, which is the function of the sculptor. It stands to sculpturing in the same relation as the printer's "process block" to the artist's original sketch, or the lithographic plates to the painter's coloured picture. Therefore prejudice against machine-made statues is as unreasonable as objection to the carefully-executed replica of a celebrated painting. The sculptor himself has not produced it at first hand, yet his personality has been stamped even on the copy, for the machine can do nothing except what has already been done for it. The machine merely displaces the old and imperfect "pointing" by hand, substituting a method which is cheaper, quicker, and more accurate in its interpretation of the model.
It is obvious that, apart from sculpture proper, the industrial arts afford a wide field for this invention. In architecture, for instance, carved wood and stonework for interiors and exteriors of buildings have been regarded hitherto as expensive luxuries, yet in spite of their cost they are increasingly indulged in. The architect now has at his disposal an economical method of carving which will enable him to utilise ornamental stonework to almost any degree. Sculptured friezes, cornices, and capitals, which, under the old régime, would represent months of highly paid hand labour, may now be reproduced rapidly and in any quantity by the machine, which could be adapted to work on the scaffolding itself.
What will become of the stonemasons? Won't they all be thrown out of work, or at least a large number of them? The best answer to these questions will be found in a consideration of industries in which machinery has replaced hand work. Has England, as a cotton-spinning nation, benefited because the power-loom was introduced? Does she employ more operatives than she would otherwise have done, and are these better paid than the old hand weavers? All these queries must have "Yes!" written against them. In like manner, if statuary and decoration becomes inexpensive, twenty people will be able to afford what hitherto was within the reach of but one; and an industry will arise beside which the output of the present-day monumental mason will appear very insignificant. The sculpturing machine undoubtedly brings us one step nearer the universal House Beautiful.
A complete list of the things which the versatile "Wenzel" can perform would be tediously long. Let it therefore suffice to mention boot-lasts, gun-stocks, moulds, engineering patterns, numeral letters, and other articles of irregular shape, as some of the more prosaic productions which grow under the buzzing metal points. Some readers may be glad to hear that the Wenzel promises another hobby for the individual who likes to "use his hands," since miniature machines are purchasable which treat subjects of a size not exceeding six inches in diameter. No previous knowledge of carving is necessary, and as soon as the elementary principles have been mastered the possessor of a small copier can take advantage of wet days to turn out statuettes, busts, and ornamental patterns for his own or friends' mantelpieces. And surely a carefully finished copy in white marble of some dainty classic figure or group will be a gift well worth receiving! The amateur photographer, the fret-sawyer, and the chip-carver will have to write "Ichabod" over their workshops!
The Wenzel has left its experimental stage far behind. The German Emperor, after watching the creation of a miniature bust of Beethoven, expressed his delight in a machine that could call a musician from lifeless stone. The whole of the interior decoration of the magnificent Rathaus, Charlottenburg, offers a splendid example of mechanical wood carving, which tourists would do well to inspect.
We may now pass to