​Bricks and the Three Little Pigs

A very common building material, in fact, so common that it’s possible to ignore, to the point where it can be almost accepted, without question, that houses have always been built of bricks.

But, just for a moment, think about the story of the Three Little Pigs. What if that story is as much a historical anecdote, looking at human existence through the frailty of early building as safe places? From early shelters, maybe even straw or plant-based bedding, which was a material used in bedding through to relatively recent times, through wattle and daub dwellings, woven wooden material as a basis for holding some kind of mud mix, with roofing made of straw or reed, or some other plant material, eg peat, depending on what was available.

In fact, much of housing history is based on what materials are available locally. Humans have been adept at creating shelters, rudimentary “houses”, as a base from which to construct more secure dwellings, using local timber, mud or stone, and plants.
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It’s true that bricks made of mud, adobe, have been made in many parts of the world for several thousand years. These dried mud bricks, simply shaped mud rectangles left in the hot sun to dry, are features of buildings in many parts of Africa. 

These buildings are susceptible to wet weather, so need large overhangs of the roof to take water away from the walls, or, in the case of the Malian buildings, regular recoating with mud.

This was also a feature of much early vernacular housing in other parts of the world, where materials were simply accessed from whatever was available. Wattle and daub was a housing feature from probably Bronze/Iron Age times through to the 13th century, then refined a little in the 15/16th centuries in finer dwellings, becoming lath and plaster in later dwellings.
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Chalk was burnt to become lime, which in turn, with water mixed, became a standard “paint” that also helped to repel insects. Lime could also be used as an alternative to cement and was used from Prehistoric times for this. Lime, organic materials, plus available rocks, could be used to make solid walls, often known as cob, cobb or clom walls. Variations on the theme depended on local materials.

Butser Ancient Farm, wattle and daub, left and Hangleton, Flint (cobb) Weald and Downland, right.
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​The Romans were very adept at brick making, with their bricks being shaped and fired in kilns, which altered the properties of the bricks, so that they could be used in wetter climes. Of course, they also used the technique for pipes, crockery and kitchen ware.

Then they left, and seemingly, with them went the technology of brick making, although there are many areas of the country that have significant clay deposits. Some Romano-Britons may have used buildings left behind, but, for many, their wattle and daub houses were possibly not too dissimilar from earlier people. They might be circular or rectangular, with a central hearth fireplace and smoke passing through the thatch roof. Saxons, Vikings, low status Normans would probably feel comfortable in each other’s houses. Small or large the principle might be similar, a general hall, with the fire hearth, with areas off for sleeping or specific work areas. In fact, this idea persisted even into periods that ended with the Tudors.

In the 12th century, in Europe there was a renaissance of brick making, that gradually worked its way to Britain, with the earliest use of brick in Britain being 1190 in Coggeshall abbey in Essex. Probably from about 1400 they were becoming more common, but in a relatively narrow area along the Thames, imported from Flanders with Britain exporting wool. This gave rise to some of the significant buildings along the Thames, with Hampton Court (1514) being one of the most recognisable.

Slowly, artisan brick makers were brought to Britain to make use of local clay seams, probably for local gentry.
With many vernacular houses being made of wattle and daub, they were something of a fire hazard. Sometimes kitchen/cooking areas were built apart from the house, so that, in the event of a cooking fire, the house wouldn’t be destroyed.

The other issue with an open-hearth fire was the build-up of smoke inside the house, sitting as a haze, sometimes not far above head height. The method that was developed to address the issue was the smoke bay. This was essentially a wattle and daub channel to funnel the smoke through a narrow part of the building to a smoke hole in place of a chimney. It might have had a stone wall behind, or an iron plate to avoid direct contact with the wattle and daub.
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In 1666, the fire of London resulted in an edict that fires should have a chimney flue and where possible, houses should be made of brick, which was becoming more common. Houses that had originally been built as hall houses could be remodelled with the addition of a fireplace and chimney.

Both Bayleaf, left, and Walderton, right, had chimneys built in the 1500s, well after their original construction.

​Many timber framed houses survive today behind various facing materials. In Georgian times, it wasn’t uncommon for houses to have a “face lift”, with a Georgian brick façade covering the original timber frame. Sometimes they had wooden cladding nailed to the supporting timbers.

The introduction of the chimney flue enabled internal remodelling, with upper spaces able to be incorporated into living space, often with rooms having their own fireplace. Chimneys allowed separate internal cooking spaces, smoke holes for drying meats, bread ovens to be incorporated into chimney stacks.

Chimneys changed use of space, cooking and, inevitably improved health, as people were not breathing fire fumes, directly or indirectly by smoke seepage.

A thatched roof might be replaced by terra cotta tiles, slate or stone, to make them safer from stray sparks.

It’s worth considering “home improvement” as a feature of wealth. Fine houses were the domain of the better off. If you consider the householder of Bayleaf, which was rented with 100 acres, there would have been a need for general labour. It’s feasible that the labourer might have lived in a house similar to Hangleton, but the use of his labour would have been his means of survival. At one point, the owner of Bayleaf also had children from another part of the family in the household, as minor servants.
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So the little pig in the house of bricks, welcoming his siblings into his household, might well have been simply taking advantage of their potential for labour… 

A visit to the Weald and Downland Museum allows you to explore different parts of this. 
You can do 3D tours of some of the houses, linking to this area of the website. Click on the link.
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3D Virtual Tours at The Weald & Downland Living Museum 

During my early teaching career, I took my class in two halves to the local churchyard to read the opening part of Dickens’ Great Expectations, where Pip meets Magwich. The impact of sharing story in a specific place fired my imagination from that point.

One of my retirement opportunities has been getting involved in the Weald and Downland Open Air Museum, near Chichester, West Sussex. Celebrating its 50th anniversary last September, the collection of rescued and reconstructed “artisan” houses has grown significantly, as Lucy Hockley, the Cultural Engagement Manager, recently said to volunteers, “Covering 1000 years of history. These have been added to by archaeological reconstructions, such as the Saxon House.

The houses, in themselves, are products of their time and place, with locally available materials being used, often straight from the woodland or, later, the clay pit. They offer unique insights into life as it would have been lived during the earlier part of their history, having been interpreted and furnished in the style appropriate to the time. Furniture was made for many by the museum carpentry expert, Roger Champion, based on furniture in other museums or collections.

Gardens are created to the period and using the plants of that time.

Wills, probate records, letters, census, parish registers, rental contracts and other documents can be explored to find out some of the families who lived in specific houses, especially if they stayed for some time, or maybe held local office, such as bailiff or constable. Yeoman families are likely to have more records than, say, journeymen labourers or other lower status roles, like shoemender. So we know about the Wells, Clare and Tindall families, but not those in a lower status.

Artefacts have been collected and collated into the museum store, so they represent part of the historical record. In addition, the museum is very lucky to have connections with a range of historical “archaeologists”, such as Ruth Goodman, Ronald Hutton and Ian Mortimer, all of whom recently gave online talks to members and volunteers, on heating and cooking with wood to coal, festivals through the year and the Regency Period respectively. They add to the narrative that can be shared with visitors.
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All of these combine to attempt to bring history to life, to show that history is as much about ordinary families and their lives as the rich and powerful, whose stories are often told to the exclusion of the majority of the population.

​One thing that I would like to collate for the museum is a collection of historical fiction sources, using the collective expertise of Twitter. If there are books that you have used, especially read with children to link with historical periods, please append them into the reply box. I would be particularly interested in highly descriptive, short passages that might be read to children while they are actually within the houses, to link narrative with the evocative visuals and physical evidence.
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There is regular evidence on Twitter of the wealth of literary expertise and experience. Every offering will be very much welcomed, with our thanks.