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Some of the workers were very young. The Graphic of June 1871 wrote of drunkenness in brick yard children under ten and reported that at Oldbury, Lancashire, ‘a child, four years old, was found helping her sister aged seven to carry clay.’

Charles Dickens in Bleak House (1853) makes his most brutish character a brick maker, and describes in some detail the interior of his cottage, his wife’s bruises and his daughter’s laundry arrangements. Anthony Trollope in Framley Parsonage (1867) writes of a West Country parish ‘abounding in brick - makers, a race of men very troublesome to a zealous parson who won’t let men go rollicking to the devil without interference’. But however troublesome and rollicking, the brick makers of the past matched the hard-drinking railway navvies in producing results which endured and are, indeed, an important part of Britains heritage.

The British, living in a land of brick work, have long seen the brick as a symbol of solidity. We talk of an object being as hard as a brick , of knocking heads against brick walls and of sinking like a brick . We drop a brick . It is probably a hard brick , likely to break something; but in this metaphor there can be a reminder of the softness of a brick when just moulded and of the need for careful handling. To pay someone the compliment of calling him a brick , though now an entirely English expression, is believed to derive from the reply of an Eastern king to an invading army which made fun of his unwalled towns: ‘My troops are my walls and every soldier is a brick .’

The brick maker no longer symbolises the rough-living worker, but there are still brick yards in which he works in the old way. Electrically driven machines may dig out and mix the raw material, but some of the best brick s are moulded one at a time by hand. The moulders are paid by the piece and may turn out over 1,500 brick s in a day. To watch a strong young man raising a lump of clay above his head, dashing it generously into the

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mould and then striking off the surplus, offers as picturesque a sight as any in modern manufacture.

Out in the country the places of work can be picturesque, too, even romantic, with their rustic drying and making sheds and primitive kllns in a setting of hollows, mounds and hillocks. In L.F’. Hartley’s celebrated novel The brick field, an isolated brick yard in the fens of Suffolk is the scene of innumerable secret meetings between a young boy and his girl. All over the world, it seems, a rural brick yard may offer itself as a halting place, an oasis of warmth, during a walk on a cold evening. The hero of a modern Chinese novel, * strolling with a girl, says he will take her to a nice place.

‘Where are we going?’ She followed him.

‘There is a brick yard on the southern slope. It will be warm there.’

Whell they got to the southern slope, they could see smoke rising from the brick -kiln chimney. Nearby was a thatched woodshed, facing south and backing on the kiln. They

went into the shed and it was very warm. They sat side by side on a bundle of faggots. The moon beams slanted

in from the West under the low straw eaves

proprietors of country brick yards in Britain generally put up a notice to the effect that visitors after hours come at their own risk. They don’t mind couples but are worried about tramps who leave litter, or worse, to be found in the morning. Mr H.P. pycroft, a Hampshire brick maker and builder, can tell of a tramp who was found insensible from having gone to sleep hard against a clamp kiln at a point where fumes were escaping.

About 2 per cent of Britain’s brick s are made by hand in small yards with buildings like old farm buildings, but these are the brick s which many people like to have in the parts of walls that show and high prices are paid for them. It is the hand-

* Chou Li-pO’ Great Changes in a Mountain Village. Extract given in John Gittings’s A Chinese

View of China, BBC, 1973.

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made brick s, with their tell-tale marks, which the many

mechanised brick factories seek to imitate. To compare such

brick s with concrete products is to realise that they are the

most natural-looking of the artificial building materials.

Although no machine-made brick can look exactly like the hand-made article, Britain’s London brick Company can now produce mechanically, and in vast quantities, facing brick s that agreeably suggest it: this is done before firing by coating fletton brick s with sand and a variety of other finishes.

The appeal of brick in general seems bound up with the simplicity of the basic process. To make an experimental brick let no tool is necessary except perhaps a spade. Scoop out a lump of clayey subsoil from the garden, knead and shape it (as in breadmaking), slowly dry and then bake red hot.

Firing might seem a problem, but I have found that this is satisfactorily achieved by leaving the brick let in the heart of a solid-fuel fire which is kept going for about thirty-six hours.

The brick let is more likely to turn out red than any other

colour because of the prevalence of iron oxide in clay,

brick making material is broken-down rock of one geological

age or another and is conveniently called clay (or, by non-

geologists, brick earth); but the amount of true clay present

may be less than 10 per cent. True clay consists of alumino

silicate minerals in particles of infinitesimal fineness and is

distorted too much by heat to be useful on its own for brick -

making. It is only necessary that there should be enough of it

mingled with the mass to give plasticity, the ability to hold a

shape: the non-clay materials like sand serve the invaluable

purpose of reducing shrinkage on drying and preventing the

brick s from cracking under heat.

Some brick makers are lucky enough to be able to dig material

which naturally contains clay in the best proportion for corn-

mercial brick making. A mixture of clay and sand called loam is

one of these; another is a mixture of clay and chalk called maim.

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Less fortunate brick makers must be always adjusting their clay to give it a suitable plasticity. Very often sand or finely ground ash is added. The blue London clay is a good example of a clay which is far too sticky to be used on its own without a heavy admixture of other materials to reduce plasticity. Some of the shales, which are hardly sticky at all, are made plastic by grinding to powder and adding water.

Water-soluble salts in the clay can cause efflorescence on the finished brick unless appropriate action is taken during the preparation and during kilning; and stones, especially lumps of limestone which swell on getting wet, can cause disintegration. One advantage of the old method of tempering clay for moulding with the bare feet was that stones could be readily located by feel and thrown out. Now they are generally dealt with by powerful crushing.

There are three main ways of making brick s, of which the socalled soft mud process is the most traditional. The clay mix

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is made into a paste by adding water, pushed into wooden moulds and at once tipped out: this operation is done by machine as well as by hand and the product is generally known as a stock brick , the term coming from the stock (or fixed piece of shaped wood) which holds the mould. Those who want stock brick s for their texture of minor irregularities and fold marks will probably not find it in the machine-moulded stocks.

In the wire-cut process, a fairly stiff mix is forced in a column through a rectangular die and cut off into brick s by taut wires. About a third of all British brick s are wire-cuts. Slightly under a half of the clay brick s are made by the semi-dry process of London brick Company in which the clay, being hard, is first powdered and then pressed into shape.

To acquire their characteristic durability, brick s must be fired for a period of days at a temperature greater than 900°C, the actual temperature depending on the clay being used. As the heat rises the character of the clay and its colour continues to change. Where brick s of exceptional hardness are wanted— brick s of the sort called engineering—the clay is fired in such a way that vitrification (or partial fusion) of the

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Simple plant for making machine-moulded brick s. On its way to the machine, the clay passes through a pair of crushing rollers to deal with small stones

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material is pushed further than usual. The making of such brick s, and the forming in them of blue ferrous silicate, calls for careful firing because prolonged burning can easily lead to distortion brought about by the irregular behaviour of fused material. Both Staffordshire and Holland are noted for extra hard brick s. The small Dutch clinker, 7 inches by 3 by 1, has in the past been imported for paving yards and stables.

Variations in clays, even within the same district, lead to corresponding variations in process from one brick yard to another; and in some there must be constant experiment in adding more or less of certain materials. The necessity for every commercial brick yard to adjust its way of brick making to the clay available seems to account for the fact that no industry has fewer handbooks on how to do it than brick making—less than a dozen between 1622 and 1966.

A truth about brick making which in recent years has taken many firms by surprise is that brick s emerge a slightly different colour when, for reasons of convenience, a kiln is fired by gas instead of coal. A large firm in the Midlands, supplying the brick s for a block of flats in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, made the change in the course of meeting their order with the result that the brick s in the final delivery did not quite match the rest. The brick layers, to the architect’s dismay, continued to build with them. In the end, the huge expense of rebuilding was avoided by the procedure of the three royal gardeners in Carroll’s Alice, the ones who planted white roses in mistake for red and were in danger, if the Queen found out, of having their heads cut off. The brick firm sent three men with paint and brushes and instructions to tint each brick in the upper storeys of the building to the shade of those in the lower storeys.

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Good brick is unlike concrete and stucco in needing no maintenance or surface treatment. It is improved by weathering and even looks the better for the passage of five hundred years. It is often more durable than natural stone. The London stock and yellow gault brick s with which Sir Joseph Bazalgette built the great sewers of London between 1858 and 1875 continue to serve their purpose. Concrete has been tried in recent times for sewer works in London, but brick s have been shown to wear better under the scouring of miscellaneous fluids and grit, to form stronger and more satisfactory junctions and to be less slippery for the sewer men to walk on.

The handy weight and shape* makes brick relatively untiring to build with, for the workman can grasp his brick with one hand while picking up mortar with the other; he finds it, too, a flexible unit with which to follow most drawings. Even throughout the great stone building areas of the Mediterranean, it may be seen again and again in older houses that window and doorway arches, set like raised eyebrows in the stonework, are neatly and strongly brick . However, the extent to which builders have turned to brick s because of their regularity is traditionally hidden by a stucco finish—there are plenty of houses in the old quarters of Paris which contain less of the local coarse limestone than at first appears.

Having been hardened by intense heat, brick s are very good at resisting fire. Thus the metal in steel-framed buildings may be buried for safety in brick work; and it can often be seen that the flues and chimney stacks of old houses, stone as well as wooden,

* The size of a brick has scarcely changed in centuries. The most recent British Standard

is 8 inches by 4* by 2* or 215 mm by 025 by 65 (B.S. 3921)

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are of brick . Few brick s lack toughness, but obviously some must be used with common sense. There are less than fully-fired brick s which should not be exposed, unrendered, in the outer leaf of a wall; the otherwise robust fletton brick s are damaged by frost if laid as a coping on parapets.

But in general where brick work has failed in any respect, the fault is unlikely to be in the brick s themselves. Take the damp patch on a ground-floor wall of a country cottage. This could well be explained by such things as the absence of a damp course or the presence just outside of a banked-up flower bed. If chimney breasts upstairs are damp, the cause could lie in a lack of protective flashing at the junction of stack and roof.

It has never been a protection against rain to build with the hardest, densest brick s, for wherever water has encouragement to get in, it does so through chinks in the mortar joints rather than through the brick s themselves. In fact, brick s that are porous enough to absorb a certain amount of water actually discourage th entry of rain at the joints.

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The chances of penetration by rain are reduced to nil today by cavity-wall construction, which also gives a degree of insulation. And no water can rise up from the ground where a damp- course is built in, as is usual, just below the level of the floor.

The insertion of dampcourses, formerly of slate, had become the usual practice by the end of the nineteenth century. On the other hand, the cavity wall, with metal ties to hold it together, was almost unknown until 1912. For years this construction was specified only occasionally for the more expensive brick houses. But to the busy speculative builders of the 1930s, it was welcomed, Morris S. Whitehouse remembers, ‘as a boon and a blessing because it was almost foolproof against bad workmanship and bad design’. Unless a workman completely blocked up a cavity with mortar droppings, no water could get through.

It has been argued that the dampcourse was a more important invention than the cavity wall. The point is debatable. But it can certainly be said that while a house without a damp- course is liable to be damp whether its walls are avity or solid, a house without cavity walls need give no trouble if it is carefully built and if there are wide eaves and appropriate devices, especially below windows, to throw off water. The fact that many thousands of Britain’s older houses remain dry with 9- inch solid brick walls is a tribute to sound workmanship.

All the same, quite serious failures in brick work took place from time to time in the mid-nineteenth-century period because of skimped mortar and poor laying. Workers’ houses in London which partially fell over in the course of construction made a not-uncommon item of news in the papers. During the building of Euston Station in 1848, inefficient cutting of brick s to the right shape for arches led to a disastrous collapse.

Old brick walls remain which, though still doing their job, are leaning over, cracked or bulged. The reason for such failures may become clear in the exposure brought about by demolition work. Tenuous foundations are found. Inside a misshapen solid

brick wall it may be seen that the mortar is no stronger than dust, thus allowing the individual brick s far too much freedom to shift and settle. A twentieth-century cavity wall, perhaps not forty years old, yet having an ominous bulge, will suddenly expose its fragile-looking section and with it the fact that the ferrous metal wall ties have come adrift because of rust or settlement.

brick buildings rarely develop a fault because the brick s are not hard enough. Yet since the nineteenth century the commonest laboratory test has been for their crushing (or compressive) strength. Even today the brick firms like to be conversant with these figures for their various grades of brick and no sales leaflet is thought complete without a statement of them.

Although customers may be persuaded that high crushing- strength figures indicate high quality, such figures need not be a reliable indication that certain brick s resist the weather

well or are more serviceable than others. The figures below indicate the range of

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strengths in lb. per square inch with, in brackets, the equivalent in meganewtons or N mm2:

Engineering brick s

Class A 10,000 (69)

Class B 7,000 (485)

Facing brick s

Flettons 3,000-4,500 (205—318)

Others 1,000—12,000 (7—83)

Common brick s

Flettons 3,000—4,500 (205—318)

London Stocks 750—1,500 or more (52—105)

Others 2,000—6,000 (14—414)

Alfred Searle, in the 1956 edition of his Modern brick making, points out that a brick in a wall has the tiny area of 025 square feet which is subject to vertical pressure from the brick s above it and that no less than 8,000 would be needed to crumble a

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brick in the lowest range of crushing strengths. These 8,000

brick s, one on top of the other, plus mortar, would reach a

height of 1,750 feet.

The architect planning tall buildings of load-bearing brick work. which must be economically costed, has of course to take account of crushing strengths. And there are structures for which the density and strength of blue engineering brick s are appropriate. But for ordinary small houses any modern building brick is much stronger than necessary for its job.

Even before firing, dried brick s may have a crushing strength in excess of 350 lb. to the square inch and could be used in their green state for building a house in Britain, if the walls were subsequently rendered against rain. A bungalow in the south of England was recently built with green brick s by accident— a most unusual accident—and several months passed before it was even noticed. Having been well dusted with orange sand, the brick s had an appearance that deceived both the lorry driver and the brick layer to whom he delivered them. The buyer of the bungalow moved in, quite satisfied; but one day he noticed, while watering roses planted against his walls, that the brick work was being washed away. Needless to say, the brick firm had his bungalow rebuilt with the fired article.

There exist numerous old engineering works—bridges, retaining walls for railways—which theoretically demanded the strongest brick s and did not get them. They were built with humble stocks and yet are still in good order after more than a hundred years. However, Victorian engineers calculated brick work by rule of thumb and, tending to over-specify, got massive results—the early skyscrapers of New York were built in mass brick work. London stock brick s have yielded almost monolithic structures, for these fairly weak brick s have hardened in London’s smoky air through recrystallisation of the calcite, and at the same time the lime mortar between them has been hardened by carbon dioxide.

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The history of building in brick appears to offer only one instance of disaster caused by too low a crushing strength—and that was largely a matter of builders’ negligence in that a great weight was allowed to rest on a small area of brick work. During the afternoon of 17 January 1878, an oyster-seller in the Hay- market, London, noticed that the doors of his tall narrow house on the corner of Panton Street stuck in their frames. Towards night, creaking sounds were heard and lumps of plaster fell from ceilings. The oyster-seller sent his assistants outside, but he himself lingered. He was killed outright when his house, together with the one next to it, fell over into the street.

In the enquiry that followed it was established that, as a result of alterations to the two houses to produce shop fronts, much of the weight of both had been supported by a cast iron pillar resting on the stump of an old party wall. The brick s below and around the base of this pillar were crushed to dust.

How far this London accident of 1878 was a factor in making people sensitive about the compressive strength of brick s is unknown, but the enquiry was fully reported in the Builder and it so happens that shortly afterwards activity in the testing of brick s (and stones) became widespread. Later that year, in Germany, work began on setting up certain extra regional testing laboratories which had been called for by the Union of German Architects’ and Engineers’ Societies, and during the l880s conferences were held in Munich, Dresden, Berlin and Vienna to discuss the best ways of testing building materials. In France the École Nationale des Ponts et Chaussees began testing brick s in 1881.

The United States Army was required in 1884 to test the brick s of the New Pension House in Washington, and reported that they withstood a pressure of up to 10,000 lb. to the square inch— more than good granite would stand. The first serious investigation in Britain into brick work strength was conducted by a committee of the Royal Institute of British Architects between

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1895 and 1897; piers built with different kinds of brick , in mortars made with lime and with cement, were tested after three months and six months.

Research into brick s and the machines to make them has been going on throughout the twentieth century in the laboratories of the bigger brick firms—London brick Company spends £100,000 a year on research—and in the national research stations to which the industry and government subscribe.

The British Ceramic Research Association has for years been subjecting samples of brick work to artificial rain, frost and wind; and it owns a rig of 900 tons with which the strength of walls is tried out by applying pressure from the side as well as from above. Tests inspired by London’s Ronan Point disaster of 1970, in which slabs high on a tower block came adrift when there was a gas explosion, have shown that properly bonded brick work will withstand explosions better than more modern building components. It was also found that only in the most contrived situation was it possible to achieve a gas-explosion pressure approaching 5 lb. per square inch. The British Ceramic Research Association also runs a clay-testing service. Members may send a sample and learn—before investing money in plant

—how far their raw material is suitable for brick s. Since a clay report can be done on a sample of a pound or two, the service is well used by potential brick makers overseas. It is an achievement of the Association that one of its experts on brick s, Mr H.W.H. West, has written a useful book on brick making for the developing countries, published by the United Nations in 1969. It is read in parts of the world where the need is to employ as many people as possible, rather than as few, and it thus describes procedures and equipment which are now old-fashioned in Britain.

A lot of work has been done on methods of putting holes in brick s to make them lighter, to save clay and to keep out moisture. The Building Research Establishment at Watford

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was especially active over this during the 1950s and drew interest with the invention of a double brick called the V, designed to span the whole width of a wall—it consisted of two perforated brick s joined together with webs in such a way that penetration by water is almost impossible. It has not been taken up commercially, partly on the grounds of expense and partly because of some discomfort in handling.

Hollow clay blocks, or structural clay tiles as they call them in America, have always been strong enough, despite their brittle appearance, for external walls as well as load-bearing internal walls. But they could not be used in this way until 1937, when the Ministry of Health issued revised model by-laws for building. Previously the by-laws required that all external walls, at least in towns, should consist of not less than 8 inches of solid incombustible matter.

The change in the regulations did not cause a rush to make use of hollow clay blocks. Unlike in France, where they have been used in great quantities to replace stdne since 1855 (solid brick s are today made only in a small area of the north of France), in Britain architects and builders, not to mention their clients, have never ceased to hold conservative views about them. But the prime reason for resorting only in a limited way to hollow blocks (for backing work and floors) is that traditional solid brick s are unusually cheap, especially the fletton kind which are economically fired with the fuel occurring naturally in the clay from which they are made. Low cost compensates for the rather longer time it takes to build a wall with brick s than with the larger hollow blocks.

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brick BC

The story of the brick begins with sun-dried mud brick s formed with hands alone. I have seen walls built with such brick s at least 10,000 years ago deep in excavated sections of ancient Jericho, which is believed to be the oldest town in the world. There are prized-out specimens clearly showing Neolithic hand marks.

These early brick s have the shape a person gives automatically to dough when breadmaking without a tin, and indeed they resemble long loaves of bread, flat underneath and rounded on top. Squeezing and consolidating, the makers sometimes left a bold pattern of thumb impressions; these had the incidental function of helping the brick s to key in with mud mortar.

The soil of Jericho, much of it windblown dust with a proportion of finely powdered lime, was especially suitable for sundried brick s. When turned to paste with water, it had the plasti

3

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city of clay and became dense and heavy on drying. Neolithic brick s ring to the knock like concrete and have been shown by modern tests to have a crushing strength equal to half that of an ordinary fired brick . They were vulnerable to water, as are all plain mud brick s, and needed a plastering over with mud after wettings in the rainy season. The owner of a mud- brick house in modern Jericho assured me in 1974 that maintenance was no great trouble because it seldom rained.

Sun-dried brick s, requiring only labour to make, were so effective that kiln-fired brick s did not appear till the third millennium BC, long after the art of pottery had demonstrated the effect of a high temperature on clay. For thousands of years fired brick s were a luxury article for those able to command the use of scarce fuel. Even today, according to a recent United Nations survey, more of the world’s houses are built of unfired earth than of any other material.

In several countries, including Russia, over half the houses are of this type. Mostly they are simple one-storey dwellings, but it is possible by thickening walls to build tall houses with mud brick s. In Anatolia, Turkey, where the manufacture of mud brick s is a centralised industry, houses built with them may be five storeys high; wide roof eaves, giving Turkish mud houses a Regency look, protect against the worst effect of rain, and bottom courses of stone prevent erosion by dampness. Mud and straw is moulded into outsize blocks in Mexico, where the word adobe is merely Spanish for mud: adobe has been a South American building material for at least 5,000 years.

The earliest peoples on earth were nomads who sheltered in caves and temporary huts. Making brick s came with settling down in one place and raising food from the land. Jericho drew the world’s first settlers less because it was an oasis with a permanent and copious supply of water from the Jordan than because, by a chance thought miraculous, wheat instead of grass began to grow there. For people settling down, something

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more robust than shelters of twigs and daub was wanted, and the local soil, kneaded into convenient shapes, made the obvious building material. Neat mud brick s were quicker to build with than lumps of stone that were irregular and in any case hard to find at Jericho.

When the site of Jericho was first occupied the ground was flat and on a level with the river. Today it is a ten-acre grassy mound rising to seventy feet, built up layer by layer of the remains of 9,000 years’ worth of mud houses; some of them collapsed after being abandoned and others through destruction by earthquakes and invaders. Unlike the components of stone houses, the brick s of ruined mud houses are unsuitable for reuse: successive waves of settlers simply built again on top of smoothed-out remains.

The resultant mound is known in Arab countries as a tell. Jericho’s tell has been of special interest to archaeologists because of the famous story in the Old Testament concerning the capture of it by the Israelites in the fourteenth century BC and the fall of the town walls. The tell has been excavated several times in the past hundred years, but never more ably and scientifically than by teams directed by Dame Kathleen Kenyon in the 1950s.

Her conclusion that the stumps of mud- brick walls at the base of the tell are datable to the Pre-Pottery Neolithic period, to 8000 BC or even earlier, was based on Carbon 14 analysis of such organic material as wood and bones found in or near the walls. In her book Digging Up Jericho Dame Kathleen states that to form these walls—they are mainly 18 inches thick and some have brief stone footings—the majority of the brick s

are laid as stretchers, three to the width of the wall, but occasionally there are groups of headers running the full ,idth of the wall. The whole forms a structure which

it is still quite hard work to demolish, and it is a very

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Dimensions varied from house to house, but a common size was 10 inches by 3 wide and 3 deep, just small enough for the builder to hold with one hand; in this characteristic of being easily handled, valued by brick layers today, early Neolithic brick s are more similar to modern brick s than the great slabs which came to be made with the aid of moulds in the third millennium Bc—and which were usual in Roman times.

The archaeologists were able to study at Jericho two types of house belonging to the Pre-Pottery Neolithic Age. In the earliest period the houses are small and round, a translation into a solid structure of the nomad’s flimsy hut. Then, around 5000 BC, following an abandonment of Jericho for several centuries, a more sophisticated type emerged, rectangular in plan. Some had sizeable rooms linked by wide openings. Almost certainly they were of one storey only and roofed with poles and reeds daubed thickly with mud: this kind of roof is still common in the Middle East and elsewhere.

Living-room floors in this type of house had a finish of lime plaster laid concave at the junction with walls, a device used today in hospitals to prevent dust from accumulating in awkward corners. The floors emerged so hard and shiny that the archaeologists found they could effectively swill them down with pails of water, imagining as they did so the same action being performed 7,000 years ago by a Neolithic housewife. The cooking in these later houses of around 5000 BC seems to have been done in a central courtyard; for layers of ash were found separated by thin layers of clay, the find suggesting that when the courtyard became offensively grimy a new surface was laid on top.

This second Neolithic-Age Jericho came to an abrupt end, it has been realised, around 4500 BC. But a period of desertion was not followed by progress in the art of living. Indeed the next occupation exhibits a retrogression. The new people knew how to make vessels of pottery—an advance on hollowing out

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pieces of stone—but in all other respects they were more primitive than their predecessors. There is evidence that some settlers, rather than build, lived in pits dug out of the ruins. Those who made brick s made them small and bun-shaped. In Walls of Jericho Lady Wheeler, who worked with Dame Kathleen, commented that they seemed ‘idiotic’:

It is strange that such an inconveniently shaped brick

should have caught the imagination of those far-off peoples:

but evidently it did, because they were used by builders

farther away to the east in the Tigris and Euphrates valleys at the end of the fourth millennium . . . it is highly

improbable that the idea for such an idiotic brick should

have occurred spontaneously to two different peoples.

The smallness of bun brick s would have meant less failures through cracking in the hot sun, but most likely their appeal was simply that given two hands full of mud, the shape was the least trouble to form. Children could make them, and very likely did so.

The step forward in brick making of using a box mould instead of merely the hands is dated to the Early Bronze Age, a period starting in the Middle East around 3000 BC. The celebrated walls of Jericho, begun at the beginning of this period, were largely built of box-moulded mud brick s. These are quite different from the hand-formed type in being large even slabs, often 14 inches by 10 in plan and 2 inches thick; their regularity made it possible to have thinner mortar joints. There are signs that animals’ dung was sometimes mixed into Jericho’s brick s as a strengthener, but the incorporation of such fibrous binding material as straw, which was to become a usual practice in Egypt, was never thought necessary because of the cohesive properties of the soil.

The earliest walls of Jericho were about 3 feet 6 inches thick at the base, but they were rebuilt and strengthened over so many centuries that the thickness became enormously increased.

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The worst threat to Jericho’s defences came always from the earthquakes which take place roughly four times a century in the Jordan Valley. At intervals in the length of certain sections of the wall there are cavities about 3 feet square which seem to have been an anti-earthquake device. They localised a collapse in the manner of today’s expansion joints: in places a section is seen to have fallen while the adjacent section, beyond one of the cavities, still stands about 10 feet high.

Attacks on the walls by enemies occasionally took the form of lighting fires against them which, so far from causing a breach, served only to strengthen and harden them. At the foot of one stretch was found a layer of ash 3 feet deep, derived from a huge pile of brushwood. The mass of brick s, 17 feet thick at that point, had been burned red all through, a process helped (compare clamp firing at a brick yard) by interior fuel in the form of wooden ties. Building material was never deliberately fired, so far as is known, in the Early Bronze Age; though here, for anyone who had cared to take notice, was a demonstration of the effect of prolonged and intense heat on earth.

To hold the massive leafs together, here and there huge wooden ties were inserted.

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Largely because of erosion, remains of Late Bronze Age settlement have almost entirely disappeared, and unfortunately no trace at all remains of the walls of Jericho which fell down dramatically when menaced by the children of Israel in the fourteenth century; archaeology can add only conjecture to the vivid description in the Old Testament’s Book of Joshua. ‘One can visualise’, writes Dame Kathleen Kenyon,

the Children of Israel marching round the eight acres of the town and striking terror into the heart of the inhabitants, until all will to fight deserted them when on the seventh day the blast of the trumpets smote their ears. But as to what caused the walls to fall down flat, we have no factual evidence. We can guess that it was an earthquake, which the excavations have shown to have destroyed

a number of the earlier walls, but this is only conjecture. It would have been very natural for the Israelites to have regarded such a visitation as divine intervention on their behalf, as indeed it can be regarded.

Evidence of very early use of mud brick s and blocks has been found in many other parts of the Middle East, in Central and

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South America, in Turkey and in India. Charles Steen, of the USA National Parks, has written:

Adobes were extensively used in the Chicama Valley of

Peru as early as 3000 BC . . . the brick s were cast in moulds which were made of crushed and flattened bamboo. The

peoples of the desert kingdoms of South America plastered their adobe struotures—pyramids, temples, houses—with

either a mud plaster or a thin lime wash.

Since nothing has been discovered to link the ancient cultures of America with the Old World, it seems that brick making, like pottery, has been a lesson twice learned by man.

During the 1960s archaeologists working at Catal Huyuk, southern Turkey, found numerous remains of houses built before 5700 BC with slabs so heavy that two men were needed to lift them—these finds have been discussed in a book on Catal Hüyük by James Mellart (1967). The same kind of large slab went to build most of eighteen successive levels of mud walling, dating from the fourth millennium, which has been found at Eridu, Iraq.

The period 2800—2300 BC produced in Iraq its own characteristic type of moulded brick s. They were flat bottomed with a convex top, about 9 inches by 6 and about 24- inches thick at the centre— the result of heaping mud into a mould and rounding it off with the hands. The brick s were commonly laid herringbone- fashion: this too appeared to be characteristic of the place and period. Two or three courses of brick s on edge leaning in one direction were followed by two courses of brick s laid flat, and then by two or three in which they sloped diagonally in the opposite direction.

From about 2000 BC till the fall of Babylon in the seventh century BC the normal mud brick s for important works resembled blocks of stone, 12 inches by 6 and 6 inches thick, or 14 inches square and only 4 inches thick. Some enormous struc

tures

27

were put up, with walls up to 20 feet in width. A tower at Erech had its outer surface protected by thousands of pieces of pottery hammered into the mud while it was still slightly plastic; later on it became usual to encase certain buildings at least partially with burnt brick s.

The firing of brick s has been carried out since the third millennium BC. Several specimens of this date from Indus Valley sites are in the Museum of Ancient brick , Johnson City, Tennessee. Any people who had acquired the art of making pottery obviously knew how to do it—and how to make other simple clay products like drain pipes and troughs—but, for ordinary building purposes, there was reluctance to expend scarce wood fuel on making building materials. Sundried brick s, dense and heavy, were certainly more satisfactory than those burnt brick s which for economy reasons had been fired at too low a temperature.

Egypt has always lacked wood and her early mud brick industry, demanding plenty of straw, is widely known about because of references to it in the Old Testament. The Egyptians put chopped straw in the mix because the alluvial mud of the Nile was strongly plastic and needed fibres to stop it cracking. Their great slab-like brick s, weighing about 35 lb., were employed for many of the early pyramids, dating from around 2000 BC.

The Israelites during their bondage were obliged to make enormous quantities of these heavy brick s for the erection of such cities as Pithom and Rameses. Biblical accounts of their hardships are illustrated by tomb pictures which show them staggering under the weight of water pots, mounds of mud and yoke-loads of finished brick s. Taskmasters, whip in hand, are plentifully represented. Nevertheless the Israelite captives seem to have been far from conscientious at times. The late Sir William Willocks reported in From the Garden of Eden to the Crossing of the Jordan that he had

picked out of old ruins in the Delta scores of brick s which

contained nothing but straw daubed round with mud. These

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had undoubtedly been made by captives who were contemplating revolt. The taskmasters had furnished a sufficiency of straw for a certain tale of brick s, but the captives had hurriedly wasted it and delivered a totally inadequate number of brick s. . . . Those who acted in this way had begun to feel that they were not utterly helpless.

Deliberate wasting of straw accounts for the Pharaoh’s renowned instruction to the taskmasters of around 1490 BC:

Ye shall no more give the people straw to make brick . Let them go and gather it for themselves, and the tale of the brick s, which they did make heretofore, ye shall lay upon them.

The Pharaoh, Rameses II, was faced with industrial action. But this is not the first recorded dispute in the building trade, for around 2250 BC thousands of brick makers and brick layers went on strike at the site of the Tower of Babel. Here was to have been a tower of burned brick s so high it would reach

29

heaven, but when it had reached a certain height the workers in a mass left off what they were doing and scattered. They had become confused, it seems, by the number of different languages they were expected to understand and, according to chapter 11 of Genesis, the confusion was divinely inspired, signifying displeasure over the idea of raising a ladder to heaven. Shortly after the departure of the workers most of the tower fell down.

George Every has suggested in Christian Mythology, 1970, that the Genesis account serves as a parable on the subject of young people undertaking with enthusiasm tasks which are beyond their strength and powers of organisation. ‘As soon as this is discovered the groups dissolve in mutual misunderstanding and recrimination.’

In later Jewish legend, Mr Every points out, the building of the Tower of Babel was the first occasion for the sacrifice of human beings for the sake of a structure. If a man fell to his death it did not matter, but if a brick fell, it might take a year to replace. Women helping to make the brick s were not allowed to stop

30

even to have a baby. When a baby was born, the mother had to strap it in a sheet to her back and go on working.

Where brick s were burnt four or five thousand years ago, the job was done by one of two methods which are still current— in England as well as in the Middle East. One method was to build a heap (or clamp) of green brick s, interspersed with fuel and flue tunnels, and set fire to it. The burning process would take several weeks, though less time and less fuel were needed with brick s containing straw, a built-in combustible matter. Dr Norman Davey suggests in his History of Building Materials that the average temperature reached would not have been much higher than 800°C, with the consequence that many clamp- fired brick s were underburnt and soft.

The other method was to burn the brick s in simple updraught kilns. These consisted of two chambers, one above for the brick s and one below for the wood fuel. An early example, dating from about 2500 BC, has been excavated at Khafaje. Similar kilns were built by the Romans, and kilns following the same principle are still in use in England at a few country brick yards.

By the end of the third millennium BC some elaborate work was being done with the aid of burnt brick in the Sumerian cities of present-day Iraq; there is evidence of a palace built at Erech (c. 2400 BC) and a temple at Ur (c. 2300 Bc), while at Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro houses were built on platforms of burnt brick to raise them above flood level.

Most of the moulded brick s—that is, those not simply chopped into shape—were about 10 inches by 6 and 3 inches thick. The burnt brick s made centuries later by the Babylonians were commonly a little thicker and 12 to 18 inches square. By far the best example of building with these is the Ishtar Gate in Baby- ion constructed under Nebuchadnezzar II, 604—562 BC. It was faced with brick s embedded in bitumen; this was used hot, according to Herodotus, and came from Hit.

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Bituminous mixtures were also used in ancient Babylon for road-making—on a foundation that consisted of several courses of burnt brick s. After the collapse of the Babylonian Empire under Nebuchadnezzar the new rulers, the Persians and the Seleucids, gave up bitumen and used for their walls inferior loam or lime mortar. Well over two thousand years passed before bituminous mixtures were again used, for waterproofing buildings and for road-making. In 1835 the Place de la Concorde, Paris, was surfaced with bitumen mixed with powdered rock asphalt. In England the first road so treated was Threadneedle Street, London, in 1869. Nebuchadnezzar was ‘modern’, too, in introducing the making of glazed brick s for walls, some of them specially moulded to provide pictures of animals in relief.

Nebuchadnezzar’s building work is given extra fascination by the fact that, unlike the Jerichoans, he lived in a civilisation

33

buildings with mud walls, these being concealed beneath a most necessary covering of plaster and paint, tar, or weather tiles. Sometimes the occupants of old buildings are ignorant of what they are made of until they try to cut a new opening for a door or window.

A minor revival of the arts of building with earth took place during the brick shortages that followed the First and the Second World War. The architect Sir Clough Williams-Ellis gave encouragement during both periods and remains fascinated by the idea of getting houses to rise up literally out of the ground. He has probably written the last word on the subject, so far as its history goes, in his book Building in Cob, Pisé and Stabilised Earth, 1947.

Building with cob was the slowest and most laborious method, since each layer of wet material, laid on with spades, had to be allowed time to dry. Pisé de terre is the name for earth rammed down nearly dry between shutters: some experimental pisé cottages built at Amesbury in the 1940s remain in good order

—another was added to the group in 1959. Stabilised earth consists of top soil and cement formed into blocks. Clay lumps resemble ordinary brick s in their green state—they are laid with a soft clay mortar. Sir dough commented as follows on the matter of strength:

All forms of earth construction have proved themselves adequate to support the loads of the normal twostorey house—about 1+ tons per foot run—provided walls of a generous thickness, usually about 18 ins, to 2 ft. are used.

It is claimed that compressive strengths of 1000 lb. per square inch and more can be achieved with cement stabilised earths, and while these figures may be somewhat extravagant, depending on careful control in the soil mix and very thorough compaction, it should nevertheless be possible to exceed 400 lb. per square inch, at which strength it would be reasonable to use the material in cavity

34

construction with leaves 4 ins, in thickness, provided the usual number of wall ties were included. This would

of course apply only to two-storey houses with joisted

floors and with evenly distributed loading.

That, however, was written in 1947. Even experimental building with earth was virtually brought to an end in Britain by the coming of new materials and techniques, of easily available supplies of inexpensive brick s, and by the rising cost of labour which made it no longer an economical method of construction. The situation in less developed countries is different, as will be shown in the final chapter of this book.

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Roman brick

Mud brick s were being used in Greece in the fourth century BC (they helped to make the walls of Athens), but in general they were for humble dwellings only and for the cores of stone walls. Mud brick s were later used in Rome, however, for the construction of substantial houses— brick s of higher quality than the Greek ones, according to the historian Pliny.

Burnt as well as sun-dried mud brick s were being made in and around Rome by the end of the first century BC, but Vitruvius in his treatise on architecture, written about 25 BC, refers almost solely to the sun-dried kind. His fellow Romans were at that time making burnt brick s as a matter of course in England, where the climate seemed to demand them; in the south these were reserved for such features on a mud building as a projecting course to throw off rain. Vitruvius, whose sections on brick make pleasantly soporific reading, discusses the details to be considered when making mud brick s:

Gravelly, pebbly and sandy clay are unfit for the purpose; for if made of either of these two sorts of earth, the

brick s are not only too ponderous, but walls built of them, when exposed to the rain, moulder away, and the straw

with which they are mixed will not sufficiently bind the

earth together because of its rough quality. They should be made of earth of a red or white chalky, or of a strong sandy, nature. These sorts of earth are ductile and cohesive, and not being heavy, the brick s made of them are more easily handled.

The proper seasons for brick making are the spring and autumn, because then the brick s dry more equably.

When plastering is laid and sets hard on brick s which are

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not perfectly dry, the brick s, which will naturally shrink, and consequently occupy a less space than the plastering, will thus leave the latter to stand by itself . . . it soon

breaks to pieces, and in its failure sometimes involves that of the wall. It is not, therefore, without reason that the

inhabitants of Utica allow no brick s to be used in their

buildings which are not at least five years old and

also approved by a magistrate.

Mud brick s came in three sizes apparently: the didoron, a foot long and half a foot wide; the pentadoron, five palms of the hand each way; the tetradoron, four palms each way. The pentadoron was for public buildings and the other two for private buildings. Each sort had a half- brick made to suit it.

The Romans’ first use for fired building material was to make tiles to waterproof roofs. But the builders found the tiles, and broken pieces of them, so valuable for strengthening vulnerable parts of walls that when, in the first century AD, burnt building brick s were demanded, these were made tile-like to match existing work—and also because thin brick s took less fuel to fire. The word ‘tegulae’ meaning tiles served also for brick s. The brick earth was sometimes trodden or banged out like pastry and then made into brick s by cutting.

usual size was a foot or so square and 1- inches thick, but there were many others: small brick s to be laid on edge in floors (as in the Forum at Colchester), segments of all kinds

columns and octagonals for certain small columns. Walls were generally composed only partly of brick s, having them as a protective facing to a core of concrete made with lime and earth

with lime and volcanic ash.* In Rome itself there was a liking for pyramid-shaped brick s. The apex of each was embedded in the concrete, though occasionally the units would be reversed to produce a strongly textured effect. Since the concrete hardened slowly, the outward thrust of it during

The Romans’ discovery that volcanic ash near Pozzuoli made a natural hydraulic cement

led to the modern term pozzolanic.

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not perfectly dry, the brick s, which will naturally shrink, and consequently occupy a less space than the plastering, will thus leave the latter to stand by itself . . . it soon

breaks to pieces, and in its failure sometimes involves that of the wall. It is not, therefore, without reason that the

inhabitants of Utica allow no brick s to be used in their

buildings which are not at least five years old and

also approved by a magistrate.

Mud brick s came in three sizes apparently: the didoron, a foot long and half a foot wide; the pentadoron, five palms of the hand each way; the tetradoron, four palms each way. The pentadoron was for public buildings and the other two for private buildings. Each sort had a half- brick made to suit it.

The Romans’ first use for fired building material was to make tiles to waterproof roofs. But the builders found the tiles, and broken pieces of them, so valuable for strengthening vulnerable parts of walls that when, in the first century AD, burnt building brick s were demanded, these were made tile-like to match existing work—and also because thin brick s took less fuel to fire. The word ‘tegulae’ meaning tiles served also for brick s. The brick earth was sometimes trodden or banged out like pastry and then made into brick s by cutting.

usual size was a foot or so square and 1- inches thick, but there were many others: small brick s to be laid on edge in floors (as in the Forum at Colchester), segments of all kinds for columns and octagonals for certain small columns. Walls were generally composed only partly of brick s, having them as a protective facing to a core of concrete made with lime and earth or with lime and volcanic ash.* In Rome itself there was a liking for pyramid-shaped brick s. The apex of each was embedded in the concrete, though occasionally the units would be reversed to produce a strongly textured effect. Since the concrete hardened slowly, the outward thrust of it during

The Romans’ discovery that volcanic ash near Pozzuoli made a natural hydraulic cement

led to the modern term pozzolanic.

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shaped, the soft wet brick s were left on a bed of sand to stiffen enough to be stacked in the kiln. During this period they might acquire unofficial marks: foot or paw impressions and lighthearted drawings of faces. A Roman brick in the Guildhall Museum, London is inscribed, apparently with a twig, AVSTALIS DIBVS XIII VAGATVR SIB COTIDIM, which means ‘Austalis has been going off by himself every day for a fortnight’—thirteen days equals a fortnight in colloquial Latin. A worker seemingly wished to draw attention to the absences of one of his mates.

Roman brick kilns had several flues beneath the oven floor and were similar to kilns that had been in use two thousand years previously—and to some kilns of the Middle East today. In 1932 Dr Norman Davey excavated a Roman kiln at St Albans and gave this account of it:

The structure, composed of pieces of brick and tile bonded with clay, was built below the natural level of the

39

ground. In this way the structure was solid and better able to withstand the stresses set up in it by the great heat, and the heat losses were greatly reduced. As the level of the oven floor was approximately the same as that of the ground, the stacking of brick s in the oven was easy. The kiln, as was usual, was built on the windward slope of the hill and the fire tunnel was lengthened to increase the draught... the products to be fired would have been surrounded and covered by pieces of burnt brick and tile smeared with clay to protect them from the weather and to prevent the heat escaping too quickly.

Although nearly all the brick s made in Britain by the Romans were red, in Rome the architects came to take an interest in getting them to emerge from the kilns in other colours. Among the extravagances of the final phase of the Roman Empire, in the fourth and fifth centuries, was a fashion for embellishing buildings with patterns of coloured brick s. They were worked

40

into the walls, among the classical features, to produce the sort of polychrome effects of yellow, red and brown which stamp many houses in Britain as late Victorian—these also, of course, were put up during the final years of a great empire. Examples of such Roman brick buildings still exist in Rome.

The craft of brick making appears to have ceased in Britain a little before the Roman legions departed in AD 412, and hardly a brick was made during a period of seven hundred years. But from the seventh century, when Saxon invaders had become established, second-hand Roman brick s were often employed for ecclesiastical and public buildings. The supply of excellent brick s to be prised out of ruins must have seemed endless: the Normans no less than the Saxons were able to make use of them, and today all over southern Britain there are modest churches of rubblestone in which Roman brick s appear the most substantial ingredient. Essex is the county with most examples.

At Holy Trinity church, Coichester, the Saxon tower is built of brick s taken from the Roman city of Camulodunum, the

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ruins of which lay to hand. Verulamium, another city, was systematically broken up late in the eleventh century (and again early in the twelfth) to get materials for what is now St Albans cathedral: the west front there has a profusion of tile-like brick s in conjunction with stone and is regarded as one of the best examples in Britain of re-used Roman brick . Of the parish churches there is an example of particular interest at Brixworth in Northamptonshire and at Bradwell (St Peter- on-the-Wall) in Essex.

Summing up, it can be said that though there are only a few places in Britain where Roman brick s can be seen doing their job in the buildings for which they were made, they still help to support plenty of buildings raised in later and less secure ages. The use of brick s for strengthening purposes, as demonstrated by the Romans, became part of the British building tradition. It is especially noticeable in chalk districts; the walls of flint which are common on the downs of southern England and in East Anglia are invariably laced with string-courses and quoins of brick .

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the great brick occurs in northern Italy as early as the late eleventh century in the church of Santa Fosca at Tortello. He gives ‘the very close intercourse in trade between the Venetians and the Flemings’ as a possible cause of the northward spread of the craft. But already by the early twelfth century a positive renaissance of brick was taking place in Flanders, Holland and northern Germany. Builders and their patrons became especially enthusiastic about brick because large areas lacked stone.

The eastern counties of England were short of stone, too, and inhabitants enriched by trade were glad to take up new ideas brought across the North Sea by those Flemish immigrants who were brick makers and masons. Flemish brick s came to be imported as well as made locally with the help of Flemish craftsmen—202,500 were shipped from Ypres in 1278 for work on the Tower of London—but such imports, costly in transport, occurred less often than has been claimed.

The advance of brick work in eastern England, with the spread of such familiar features as the Dutch gable, was encouraged by merchants and sea captains who had to visit the towns abroad where brick making flourished and impressive buildings struck the eye. English brick could almost be called a by-product of dealings with the Hanseatic League: this was a powerful combination, formed in 1241, of trading centres in the Low Countries and north Germany. The town of Hull in Yorkshire, which became the first all- brick town in England, did much profitable business with the League. Even Hull’s encircling wall and towers were made of brick . A municipal brick works run by chamberlains was in operation between 1303 and 1433. The brick s it turned out, still referred to on paper by the Latin word tegulae (tiles), were mainly red and ranged in size between 11 inches by 5- by 2 for the town walls, c. 1321, and 9 inches by

4- by 2 for Holy Trinity church, 1315—20—this building was so artfully stuccoed in the eighteenth century that in 1756 a visiting antiquary supposed it not to contain a single brick .

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The first dwelling house built with more brick than other materials is Little Wenham Hall, Suffolk, 1260—80. All the brick s are of the contemporary Flemish pattern, but since exactly the right clay for their colour—cream to greenish yellow—is to hand locally, it is no longer thought certain that they were imported. A large number of these Little Wenham brick s measure 9 inches by 44 by 2: this is only fractionally different from today’s British Standard Metric size of 215 mm by 1025 by 65 (84 inches by 44 by 24). In these times of rapid change, it is reassuring to notice that at least one artifact in common use has barely changed in shape since the thirteenth century, that the brick reached England seven hundred years ago as a perfectly developed unit. Apart from the great brick , rare after 1300, the brick as everyone knows it has varied in size by little more than an inch in any dimension.

Mr Harley, who is president of the British brick Society, puts forward the theory that the measurement which has changed least is the half-girth. The breadth plus the thickness, he points out, are the important dimensions when it comes to picking up a brick ; and he takes into account the smaller size of the mediaeval hand shown by suits of armour.

In the fifteenth century the main use of brick that developed was in the building of schools and colleges (Eton; Jesus College, Cambridge), churches and a few castle-like houses. Some of the more imposing of these brick buildings have a French air, the result of the men responsible for them having spent time among castles in France during the Hundred Years’ War.

Herstmonceux, a fairy tale castle in peach-coloured brick , c. 1440, is certainly French in feeling: Sir Roger Fiennes, its creator, was at Agincourt. Now in the hands of the Royal Observatory with its beauty unmarred, Herstmonceux remained until nearly the end of the fifteenth century the only brick building of consequence to be seen so far west as Sussexbrick belonged to the eastern counties. Its tentative diaper patterns, formed with brick s having ends of a different colour,

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are an early example of a type of flat ornament in brick work, used in France, which was to become common over much of England; the skill with which the patterns were worked in Tudor times—as at Farnham Castle, Surrey—may be the more marked if these are compared with modern versions. Caister Castle in Norfolk, whose brick s seem to have come from a site by the River Bure still called brick Pits, was built around 1430 by Sir John Fastoif who had seen long service in France and, although Caister is now in ruins, its circular tower and corbelling show French influence.

But there were of course other Continental influences during a period when places like Lubeck, Ratzeburg and Danzig were famous for their Gothic architecture in brick . Tattershall Castle in Lincolnshire, completed in 1449 for Ralph Lord Cromwell (he also had served for years in France) shows a variety of influences, according to Dr D. Simpson in a British Archaeological Society paper (volume 40): these include the brick castles of Old Prussia and the Palace at Marienburg at Gdansk, Poland. Tattershall had moreover a Dutch master brick maker, Bawdwin Docheman. The building..must have seemed very unEnglish in its earlier years: today it looks like the prototype of romantic barrack towers in Victorian garrison towns and some universities.

In the Tudor period (1485—1603), brick became so well thought of that the rich were glad to have their houses built with it exclusively, even sometimes in parts of the country offering adequate supplies of stone. When people saw that brick was good enough for the king himself, its social acceptance as an alternative to stone was complete. A dark but mellow red was preferred; today the very word Tudor suggests the brick of that colour at St James’s Palace and the older parts of Hampton Court Palace, and its use as a trade name for one of London brick ’s facing brick s may have helped these to be best-sellers.

If Henry VIII’S reign (1509—47) was the first great age of brick , it

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was also an age of remarkable—and pleasantly absurd—chimney building. London had had plenty of chimneys a hundred years earlier, but in the country as a whole (with outstanding exceptions like Tattershall and Layer Marney) anything more than a shaft of unfired clay was unusual throughout the fifteenth century. People put up with the smoke that failed to escape through a window or a hole in the roof. The purchase at Rickmansworth in 1425 of ‘2000 breke* for making chemeneys at Langley’ was an event to be proud of—the quotation appears in the Rev. Valentine Fletcher’s book Chimney Pots and Stacks, 1968. William Harrison, an Essex parson, reported for Holinshed’s Chronicle (1577—87) that elderly villagers were marvelling and shaking their heads to ‘see the multitude of brick chimneys lately erected’. He adds: ‘Now we have many chimneys, and yet our tenderlings complain of rheumes, catarrhs and poses’; in his opinion smoke had been a good medicine.

By the beginning of the sixteenth century most house-owners at least aspired to chimneys, and brick was widely called for as the best material for making them. It was also, since it readily took special shapes before firing, a material which allowed the brick maker and brick layer to outdo the stone mason in meeting a demand for show. Many stone houses were fitted from the start with brick chimneys. The brick s had to be bright red to make sure that the work stood out. Mr Fletcher reports that at Collyweston, Lincolnshire, in 1504 a deficiency in redness was helped out with

vij lb. of red ocker with 1 oz. of the offales of the glovers lether, vijd. Item to John Bradley wiff for xiiij gallons

of small ale for the said cheney of bryk, vjd.

The affluent appearance of the chimney stacks of Tudor resi

* brick s had formerly been called walltyles. The Norman-French word briche began to be used in the late fourteenth century and was spelt brik, brike, brick e or bryk. A fourteenth- century dungeon at Windsor Castle was recorded as being of paris and brikis (stones and brick s). Miss Jane Wight writes entertainingly of brick ’s vocabulary in brick Building in Englond. 1972.

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dences, visible from afar, influenced those concerned with the building of lesser dwellings. Yoeman farmers added ornamental brick chimneys to their oak-framed houses and those who were building afresh knew that brick s were an urgent requirement, for the stack would go up first and have the rest of the house built round it. A surprising number of farmers, perhaps chimney snobs, contrived to have the upper part of their stacks made in the octagonal, hexagonal or spiral form of high fashion; work of this kind can often be seen where old half-timber buildings are grouped together. Famous examples of virtuosity in chimney building include those at Gainsborough Old Hall in Lincolnshire, Kirby Hall in Northamptonshire and Cobham Hall in Kent.

The use of brick for all purposes spread in the second half of the sixteenth century to several districts in which before it had been unknown. By 1574, according to the Victoria County History, Southampton had its official brick maker, but he could not supply all that was needed for housing the gentry. brick began to appear in the South Midlands and was even seen, mixed with stone, in Derbyshire and Lancashire. Contrary to popular belief, brick nogging was not yet being inserted in half-timber houses: there were plenty of daubers capable of making the wattle-and-daub infilling that put no strain on a wooden framework.

Long before the Great Fire, the advantages of brick were being appreciated in London by members of the professional classes. The founding of the Tylers’ and brick layers’ Company in 1557—early in Queen Elizabeth’s reign—indicates the new importance acquired by brick . The Charter of Incorporation was confirmed by another granted in 1571* and further strengthened by charters signed in the reigns of James I and James II. These charters gave the Company full jurisdiction

* Talk of the so-called Elizabethan Statute brick has arisen through Nathaniel Lloyd

supposing that this document, giving the brick Size 9 inches by 4+ by 2+, referred to a statute where in fact it merely confirmed London by-laws.

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over the manufacture of brick s and tiles for the City of London and also over the journeymen, brick layers and tilers employed. The Company’s authority, extending within a radius of fifteen miles from the City, included power to inspect finished and partly finished buildings, to impose fines for bad work and to bind apprentices.

Most people having some acquaintance with England can bring to mind Tudor buildings which are partly if not wholly of brick . They may not be well known; there are still large numbers of Tudor houses, in the Eastern counties especially. Because of rough handling and a very thorough firing, the slender and slightly curved and twisted brick s of Tudor times have an agreeable homespun look giving character to the walls they form. Where Tudor brick work is oppressive in its redness, the fault may be found less in the brick s than in mortar joints that have turned black from town smoke—as at St James’s Palace in London. But out in the country the wide pale joints never cease to tone down pleasantly the colour of the brick s. And if anyone still wonders why the joints were so fat, let him build a garden wall with a heap of old brick bats, some perhaps with cement attached, and try doing it with thin joints.

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Early brick making practice

Pre-industrial brick making in England was a very local activity. In 1477 brick s to repair the walls of the City of London were made from earth dug in Moorfield, and the lawyers of Lincoln’s Inn were able to make brick s from their Coneygarth next to the site. Wherever possible, people did their digging for brick earth in such a way that the cavities could be turned into moats or cellars.

Throughout the early centuries of brick making, the work—it was work for the summer months only—was done by builders and their labourers, by farmers and theirs and by itinerant brick makers who were called in to produce the materials for a particular building. An agreement of 1644 relating to Syon House, Middlesex—M.W. Barley describes it in his English Farmhouse—gives an idea of what happened. John Hawkes of Hounslow was to have £5 towards digging the earth, £3 for each week when it came to working, £5 15s. at the end of making half a million brick s and, finally, 6s. 8d., for each 10,000 ‘well and sufficiently burnt and delivered out of the kiln’. As late as 1833 J.C. Loudon, in his Encyclopaedia of Cottage, Farm and Villa Architecture, advises farmers on how to make their own brick s; and many an isolated brick barn, by no means ancient, has near it a patch of irregular ground (there may be a small pond) which indicates where once there was a miniature brick field.

Commercial yards equipped with permanent kilns existed none the less from the fourteenth century. One of the first was at Beverley in Yorkshire, where the town rented out land for brick making. Large estates such as the Duke of Bedford’s (Woburn has a seven-mile brick wall) maintained their own brick yards. These were partly commercial in that they found a

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market for brick s not needed on the estate: the Ashburnham Estate brick yard, founded in mediaeval times, became so well thought of that its products, fired with wood, were still being sold to the public in 1968.

Much of the charm of the earliest English brick s derives from their numerous imperfections. Carefree puddling and squeezing of the raw material, followed by fierce firing, produced plenty of misshapen specimens, a well-pitted texture and a variety of soft colours. The use of esturine clay may show itself in water- formed, wavy lines.

The brick s of the Cow Tower, 1380, guarding a stretch of the River Wensum at Norwich, were made of an incompletely stirred mix which fired to the shades of red, pink, yellow, grey and green. These brick s also vary in size, lengths ranging from 8 inches to 12, and widths from 4 inches to 7. It seems certain that nearly all of them were made by the method, often used by the Romans, of cutting them from layers of stamped-down clay. To prevent it sticking to the ground, the wet clay would be spread

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out on straw. The more general procedure, though, was to form brick s in moulds and then to arrange them on straw to dry. When a mediaeval brick is prized from its fellows in a wall an impression of straw, sharply etched, is often seen; and there may be lines showing where another brick had rested during drying. Examining these marks, and studying the documents of such a brick yard as Hull’s, has shown students of brick that the method of making hand-moulded brick s has probably changed little since mediaeval times. Much study in this field has been done by the geologists Ronald and Patricia Firman, who reported results in 1967 in the Mercian Geologist, journal of the East Midlands Geological Society.

brick earth was dug in the autumn, they confirm, and piled in heaps for the action of the weather, especially frosts, to break it down to some extent. In the spring it was tempered—that is, trodden or turned with spades to produce an even plastic consistency. The moulder, working at a table, sanded or wetted his wooden mould and threw into it with some force a lump of clay. He sliced the surplus from the top of the mould with a stick known as a strike or with a cutting wire on a bow.

The moulded brick s were carried—sometimes in the mould and sometimes between two small boards called pallets—to the drying ground and laid out in a herringbone pattern. When the first row was partly dry, a second was laid across it and when that was ready, a third, until a height of ten rows had been reached. This pile of drying brick s was known as a hack. For the brick s to be dry enough to fire might take a month, during which time straw covers protected the hack from rain and excessive sun.

Burning seems to have been mainly done in kilns of the simple up-draught kind. Otherwise, brick s were burnt in clamps (or heaps), but as the word clamp was often used of permanent kilns, there is uncertainty about the prevalence of the method. It is known, though, that kilns were made from unfired brick s if fired ones were not available and that green brick s were often

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stacked inside them in the way they were stacked in the hack. There are a few brick yards in England today where most of these procedures are still carried out.

Hull fired its brick kilns with peat turves, and on one occasion, according to Miss Wight, needed 84,000 turves to fire 35,000 brick s. But the normal fuel was wood and the Tattershall accounts of the 1450s record the cutting of hundreds of small trees for burning. Coal came into use for firing brick s in the seventeenth century. The firing in a wood-fuelled kiln, containing not more than 20,000 brick s, would be continued for a period of about a week.

brick s may be regarded, geologically, as heat formed sedimentary rocks. Having so considered samples of mediaeval brick , Ronald and Patricia Firman were convinced from the evidence of plasticity, of fossils and other inclusions that only superficial clays were used; that no mediaeval brick s were made from the older carboniferous shales, Keuper marl and Jurassic clays, which are the raw material for about 80 per cent of modern

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brick s. This accounts, they say, for the obvious difference in appearance of mediaeval and modern brick buildings—and the reason for a less marked difference in East Anglia is that superficial deposits continue to be used there.

Nearly all mediaeval brick s were made of brick earth taken straight from the ground with nothing added. Exceptions include the brick s at Little Coggeshall. These have been found to contain a high proportion of coarse sand, all its grains about a millimetre in diameter, which is evenly distributed throughout a matrix of very fine particles. The Firmans concluded that the

lack of intermediate-sized grains suggests that this is an artificial mixture. If this deduction is correct, then as

early as the 12th century some brick makers were aware of the value of adding sand to plastic clay to reduce the

shrinkage on drying and burning. The technique was already known and used by potters in East Anglia.

Early brick s which are pale pink or yellow, as at Jesus College, Cambridge, were the products of earths which contained naturally a high chalk content. But around the middle of the fifteenth century brick makers seem to have made an effort to avoid the lime clays and to concentrate on those whose iron oxide content ensured redness in the brick s.

Red was the colour aspired to by nearly everyone planning to erect a brick house or add a brick chimney to a timber house. When the redness was thought inadequate for a certain task, it might even be increased artificially. Records of a manor house at Collyweston, Northamptonshire, show that about 1505 the colour of brick s for chimneys was improved by a mixture of ‘offalles’ from glove leather and ale.

A picture of mediaeval brick making appears in a Netherlands Bible of 1425: it purports to show the Jews at work in Egypt but really shows contemporary practice. Another early picture— of a moulder at work—appears in a book of trades by Hartman

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nus Schopperus published in Frankfurt in 1568. The earliest written picture of brick making is believed to be contained in a letter of 1683 from J. Houghton to the Sheriff of Bristol—it is quoted by Nathaniel Lloyd in his History of English brick work. Houghton describes digging up the earth in the autumn, weathering it in the winter, tempering in the spring, and the placing of dough-like heaps on the moulding table. At the unencumbered end of this table are

boards nail’d about nine inches high to lay sand in and in the middle we fasten with nails a piece of board, which we call a stock; this stock is about half an inch thick and just big enough for the mould to slip down upon. Then we have a mould made of beech, because the earth will slip easiest from it . . . we also have upon the table before the mould a little trough, that will hold about three or four quarts of water which we put in, and in it a strike to run over the mould to make the brick s smooth. . . . When we are thus prepared with utensils, then one man strews

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nus Schopperus published in Frankfurt in 1568. The earliest written picture of brick making is believed to be contained in a letter of 1683 from J. Houghton to the Sheriff of Bristol—it is quoted by Nathaniel Lloyd in his History of English brick work. Houghton describes digging up the earth in the autumn, weathering it in the winter, tempering in the spring, and the placing of dough-like heaps on the moulding table. At the unencumbered end of this table are

boards nail’d about nine inches high to lay sand in

and in the middle we fasten with nails a piece of board, which we call a stock; this stock is about half an inch

thick and just big enough for the mould to slip down upon. Then we have a mould made of beech, because the earth

will slip easiest from it . . . we also have upon the table

before the mould a little trough, that will hold about three or four quarts of water which we put in, and in it a strike

to run over the mould to make the brick s smooth. . . . When we are thus prepared with utensils, then one man strews

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sand on the table (as maids do meal when they mould bread) and moulds the earth upon it, then rubbing the stock and inside of the mould with sand, with the earth he forms a brick , strikes it, and pays it upon a pallat; then comes a little boy about twelve or sixteen years old and takes away three of these brick s and pailats and lays them upon a hackstead, a raised place.

There follows a description of how the boy stacks the green brick s to dry, arranging them on edge in a herringbone pattern, and of how he covers the piles with straw; it took between three weeks and a month for the brick s to become dry and hard. Houghton remarks that a moulder helped by a temperer and by

boy to carry off the brick s, would make 2,000 ‘in a summer’s day, viz., about fourteen to fifteen hours’, though an extraordinary man could make 3,000. Without assistance, his day’s output would be about a thousand. Alone or helped, his pay was 4s. for 1,000 brick s, a rate which remained roughly constant until the early twentieth century when it dropped by over a shilling. Houghton describes the firing:

Our brick s being thus prepared, the next matter is to burn them, which is after this manner: When we begin a new brick ground, for want of burnt brick s we are fors’t to build a kiln with raw brick s, which the heat of the fire by degrees burns, and this will last three or four year; but afterwards we make it with burnt brick s and we choose for it a dry ground, or make it so by making dreyns round it. This kiln we build two brick s and a half thick, sixteen brick s long from inside to inside and about fourteen or fifteen feet high; at the bottom we make two arches three foot high. .

After a rather complicated account of stacking the brick s in the kiln, Houghton writes of lighting a small fire in each arch to drive off the ‘water-smoak’ and of then increasing the size of the fires until the brick s become red hot throughout the kiln.

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The firing would take no more than three days, including the cooling down.

Then we sell the brick s as soon as we can for as much money as we can get, but usually about thirteen or fourteen shillings per thousand. The prices for making and burning is seven shillings the thousand, the wood three shillings the thousand.

By the second half of the seventeenth century the usual kiln was of the intermittent type known as Scotch. It was a large cham}jer, open at the top, with a series of fire holes along each side opposite one another. The dried brick s were stacked inside in such a way that the hot gases could surge up between them. A layer of old burnt brick s was then spread over the top, the ends of the kiln were brick ed up and roughly plastered over with clay, and fires were lit in the fire holes. When the burning process was completed, the kiln was allowed to cool and the brick s taken out. Under this method of manufacture,

the shade of the brick s varied a great deal, those nearest the fires being the darkest. These harder-burnt, darker brick s had also shrunk more. On being taken from the kiln, the brick s were roughly sorted to give the purchaser consistent lots.

But regular kilns were put up only in brick yards with some degree of permanence, and firing in open clamps was probably more usual. This kiln-less method was favoured by the itinerant brick makers, whose equipment on coming to a site need be little more than spades and a wooden mould; they reckoned to find their water and fuel locally. brick s were now considered so necessary in many parts of Britain that commercial brick - yards were multiplying and, on the outskirts of towns likely to expand, some quite large works were set up. Many parishes, too, had their own brick yards. Whether a builder applied to one of these places for brick s, or made his own—perhaps with the help of an itinerant gang—depended on the cost of transport by horse and cart.

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A labour-saving piece of equipment which emerged at the end of the seventeenth century was the pugmill for blending the clays (or pug). The pugmill was a kind of barrel containing a vertical shaft with projecting blades. There was a long beam attached to this shaft to which a horse could be harnessed to give the motive power by walking round and round. The raw materials were fed in at the top of the mill and came out at the bottom as a reasonably smooth paste. A little girl’s experience with a pugmill near Ramsey late in the nineteenth century appears in Sybil Marshall’s Fenlanci Chronicle, 1967:

When I was very small, my mother worked in the brick yards. I had a small swing fixed up for me on the beam opposite the horse, and round and round I used to go all day. If the horse dropped any dung, it had to be cleared away immediately, to keep the path from becoming greasy and in bad condition. So, as I travelled round, I kept a diligent watch for this, and was delighted when I could call out, ‘Tom, old Jack’s messing again.’

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brick work of the seventeenth

and eighteenth centuries

The Great Fire of London in 1666 was the more devastating for

the fact that the majority of houses were still wooden. The

City authorities insisted afterwards that new work should not

be done with anything so combustible as wood and strongly

recommended brick , described in the Act for the Rebuilding of

the City of London as ‘comely and durable’; not only outside

walls were to be built of brick , or stone, but also all ornamental

projections.

A huge demand for brick layers had the effect of undermining the power of the Tylers’ and brick layers’ Company: the number of craftsmen permitted to work as freemen for the Company (and for other City Guilds) was inadequate for the emergency, and workmen were liberated by Act of Parliament from the obligation to join a guild before practising their trade. The Tylers’ and brick layers’ Company never regained its authority, though a recoup of finances in the nineteenth century