In heritage conservation, few words create more confusion than hardness. For many people, the word instantly recalls cracked bricks, spalled stone or flaking plaster — the legacy of cement repairs carried out with the best intentions and the worst results. Because of this, hardness has almost become a dirty word in conservation; something that should be avoided entirely as all hard mortars are dangerous by default and softness alone guarantees safety.
Yet hardness itself isn’t the problem. The real issue is misplaced hardness — the wrong strength, in the wrong place, for the wrong wall. Hardness, properly understood, represents a set of mechanical and physical behaviours that give masonry its ability to carry load, resist deformation, and stay intact. Without a degree of firmness, a wall would lose its internal bond and begin to behave like a loose stack of bricks.
The challenge, then, is not to eliminate hardness but to control it. A mortar too hard can crush or trap its masonry, while a mortar too soft can disintegrate and fail to support it. The goal in conservation is not softness for its own sake, but balance — finding the middle ground where strength, flexibility and breathability coexist. Understanding hardness is essential, because it lies at the heart of how walls move, behave and distribute their load, living through time.
Here are two very important concepts about hardness.
Mortar and masonry work together as a single system. The wall provides the body and support; the mortar provides the bond and flexibility. One cannot perform properly without the other. As a result, hardness has no meaning on its own. A mortar is not “hard” nor “soft” in isolation; it only becomes one or the other in relation to the wall it’s part of.
A mortar that feels firm and balanced on a stone wall might be too stiff for a soft brick wall, or too weak for a dense volcanic masonry. Thus, hardness of a mortar must always be evaluated relative to the substrate it supports. A mortar that is harder than its masonry will overstress it, eventually causing cracking or spalling. A mortar that is much softer than the wall will crumble or detach, leaving the wall without support.
Hardness is a gradient scale from soft to hard — a scale that must always be read in context.
Hardness in mortars is not a single property but a mix of several measurable parameters that together describe how a material performs under stress and movement — both the body of the material and the wall-plaster interface. So these parameters are grouped into two categories: physical properties, which describe how the mortar behaves as a body, and bonding properties which describe how it interacts with the wall it binds to.
Physical properties define how the mortar behaves as a bulk material under load, heat, and moisture. They govern strength, flexibility and breathability — the main traits that decide whether a mortar will move with the wall or fight against it. Here are the most important ones:
Together, these physical characteristics determine whether the mortar will work with the wall or against it. A good mortar matches the wall’s properties without dominating or lagging behind.
The figures show how different materials behave in terms of strength, stiffness and breathability — some of the key traits that together define hardness.
At the soft end of the scale are air limes and weak natural hydraulic limes (NHL 2–3.5). These materials are gentle and flexible, with low strength and stiffness. They deform slightly under load and allow the wall to move without cracking. Their high vapour permeability makes them excellent for breathing, but too soft for structural work where greater cohesion is needed.
Moving up the scale, Roman-style pozzolanic limes and cocciopesto limes occupy the ideal middle ground. They are strong enough to stabilise masonry yet still softer and more flexible than most historic bricks or stones. Their stiffness is close to that of traditional masonry so stress is shared rather than concentrated. This is what makes them structurally compatible — firm enough to hold, soft enough to live.
By contrast, Portland cement jumps sharply upward in both strength and stiffness. It is five to ten times harder and less deformable than lime-based materials. This rigidity blocks the wall’s natural movement, leading to cracking at joints and loss of breathability. Its low vapour permeability traps moisture and salts inside the wall, accelerating decay.
At the far extreme lies steel — incredibly strong, almost infinitely stiff, and completely vapour-closed. While essential in modern engineering, it has no place within the breathing, flexible world of lime and stone.
Bonding properties describe how well the mortar connects to the wall. These surface-level interactions control how well the wall acts as a unified structure, rather than as two separate materials struggling against each other, and how it resists cracking, debonding and weathering.
Every plaster grips the wall to some degree — that grip, known as adhesion to surface, must be less than what the wall’s surface can resist: its surface layer strength. If the plaster bonds too tightly, it can tear away the wall face when the structure moves or the salts expand. If it bonds too weakly, it will not stabilise friable or crumbling surfaces that need support.
Let's look at some real-world examples:
- Plaster adhesion to substrate: on average 0.20.
- Brick surface layer strength: on average 0.80.
The bond is gentle – about 40% of the brick’s strength. Under stress, the lime lets go first; the brick stays intact. However, this softness means it does not reinforce a friable wall; loose grains remain loose.
Result: Plaster adhesion = 25% of substrate strength → safe but non-structural. Ideal for sound walls, not for weak or powdering masonry.
- Plaster adhesion to substrate: about 0.40.
- Brick surface layer strength: on average 0.80.
The bond is firm enough to knit the surface together, yet still weaker than the brick itself.
Result: Plaster adhesion = 50% of substrate strength → balanced and ideal. Provides real reinforcement and drying, yet still fails sacrificially if overstressed, keeping the masonry intact.
- Plaster adhesion to substrate: on average 1.50.
- Brick surface layer strength: on average 0.80.
The bond is about twice the brick’s strength. When salts expand or the wall moves, the plaster won’t give way but will pull the brick face away. Damage will appear as pitting, edge spalling and lasting surface loss.
Result: Plaster adhesion = 187% of substrate strength → incompatible and destructive. The plaster will survive; the brick wall will not.
When comparing the surface strength of various substrates from soft to hard, we can see that from a bonding perspective, cement would appear to be suitable for hard stones; however, due to its chemical incompatibility (presence of salts), its use would still not be recommended.
In summary: hardness is not a single metric, but a multitude of physical and bonding characteristics. Each metric plays a role, and the harmony between them determines whether the wall remains stable, dry and durable. No single number — not even compressive strength — can alone capture the true meaning of hardness in conservation.
Conservation practice offers a simple guideline for achieving this balance.
As a rule of thumb: the mortar’s mechanical strength — its compressive strength and stiffness — should be around 60–80% of the masonry’s strength.
Within this range, the mortar becomes the sacrificial “fuse” of the system, the one that breaks first if stress builds up, protecting the bricks or stones from damage. A mortar stronger than its masonry transfers stress into the stones or bricks and breaks them; a too weak one fails prematurely and leaves the wall unsupported. Staying within that 60–80 % range achieves the middle ground where the wall remains stable, flexible and durable.
Of course, this is not a fixed formula but just guidance. Every building, stone or brick type has its own character. The ratio is a guide to proportion, not a mathematical rule. It reminds us that mortar and masonry must match each other, sharing load and movement in harmony rather than in opposition.
The idea that mortars should match the walls is not new. The Romans understood this principle instinctively and applied it with remarkable precision6Vitruvius (1999), Ten Books on Architecture De Architectura. Rowland, I D. and Howe, T N, (editors), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.. They recognised that no wall material exists in isolation — mortar and masonry form a single body, one providing confinement and the other cohesion. Their mastery of lime and pozzolans was not merely about achieving strength but about achieving balance. They adjusted the hardness of their mortars to suit the stones, bricks and environments they worked with, long before material science could measure such things.
Early Roman builders used lime mortars that were soft, porous, and rich in earthy materials. These suited the friable tuffs and weak volcanic stones of central Italy, which absorbed large amounts of water and offered little inherent strength. The mortars were gentle and accommodating, acting as the binding skin for an equally soft core. But as construction techniques advanced and the need for durability grew, Roman craftsmen began to refine their recipes, adding pozzolanic ash and crushed ceramics to create mortars that were still lime-based but significantly stronger and more cohesive.
This evolution wasn’t random — it followed a clear understanding that hardness must be relative to the wall fabric. Stronger stones demanded stronger mortars, while softer tuffs still required softer lime-rich mixes. Over the centuries, Roman builders achieved an extraordinary material harmony, pairing each stone type with the right mortar hardness.
The historic evolution of Roman mortars7Jackson, Marie & Deocampo, Daniel & Marra, Fabrizio & Scheetz, Barry. (2010). Mid-Pleistocene volcanic ash in ancient Roman concretes. Geoarchaeology. 25. 36 - 74. 10.1002/gea.20295. clearly reflects this progression:
The results speak for themselves. Many Roman walls, arches and domes have survived nearly two millennia in harsh climates and active seismic zones. Their endurance comes not from extreme strength but from perfect proportion — mortar and masonry working together as one system.
The Romans achieved what conservation professionals strive for today: a structure where hardness is relative, not absolute, and where every material is tuned to the one beside it. They didn’t measure compressive strength; they observed behaviour. They understood that longevity lies in balance — in mortars strong enough to hold yet soft enough to yield — and they built accordingly. This understanding of balance and relative hardness underpinned the success of their buildings for centuries.
Modern builders, however, work in a different world. The rise of reinforced concrete and steel changed how we think about structure itself. We no longer build by feel and proportion, but by calculation and precision. Materials are engineered for strength, not flexibility; for certainty, not adaptability. And while this approach revolutionised modern architecture, it also created a deep misunderstanding when applied to historic masonry.
Modern and historic walls may both carry load, but they do it in entirely different ways. The difference lies not only in materials but in philosophy — one built on rigidity and control, the other on flexibility and balance.
Modern buildings made of reinforced concrete or steel frames behave like rigid skeletons. Their strength comes from the precision of their design: each beam, column, and slab is calculated to carry a defined load along a fixed path. The loads move vertically from the roof through the columns down to the foundation — a system engineers call point loading.
In a point-loaded structure, the material is so stiff that it resists bending or distortion. The weight therefore concentrates at specific points or lines, creating narrow zones of stress. This system is efficient and predictable — ideal for engineered materials that can tolerate enormous compression and tension without deformation. But it is also unforgiving. Because there is no flexibility built into the system, any movement beyond its design limits — settlement, thermal expansion, vibration — results in cracks or structural failure.
To manage this rigidity, modern buildings rely on precise joints and expansion breaks that allow them to move in controlled ways. The structure itself, however, remains fundamentally brittle: it is strong by design, but no adaptability.
Historic walls built of lime and masonry follow a very different logic. They behave less like a skeleton and more like a woven fabric made of many small, cooperating parts. Instead of transmitting forces in straight lines, old walls share loads through countless micro-adjustments within their thickness.
When weight presses down from above, the lime mortar compresses slightly, allowing the masonry to form tiny arching actions that spread the load sideways as well as downward. The forces don’t travel through a single path but disperse through the wall in all directions. This is known as distributed loading — a natural self-balancing mechanism that allows old masonry to absorb movement, settlement, and even vibration without cracking apart.
In this system, lime mortar isn’t just glue — it’s the cushion that allows the wall to adapt. It compresses under pressure, recovers as loads shift, and redistributes stress through the masonry around it. The result is a structure that may not be mathematically perfect but is remarkably resilient. It tolerates small imperfections, absorbs energy, and heals itself over time through re-carbonation.
This is why so many old walls have survived centuries of movement, frost, and repair. Their flexibility is their strength. They are stable not because they resist movement, but because they accommodate it.
The modern and the historic systems speak different structural languages. Modern walls depend on precision and stiffness, while old walls depend on adjustment and continuity. One concentrates load — the other shares it. One needs control — the other thrives on balance.
This distinction between point loading and distributed loading is fundamental to understanding why so many modern repairs fail when applied to historic fabric. Materials like cement, concrete, or steel belong to the point-loaded world; they are designed for precision and rigidity. Old masonry belongs to the distributed world; it survives through flexibility and shared compression.
When a modern material is introduced into an old wall, these two worlds collide. The inserted rigid modern materials block the natural flow of stress through the masonry. Loads that once spread gradually across many stones now become trapped, concentrating along the line where the old and new materials meet. Cracks start at these junctions, radiating outward like fault lines between two incompatible systems. Moisture follows the same path, trapped where the dense, impermeable patch interrupts the wall’s ability to breathe.
Many of the cracks and distortions we see today in historic buildings — often blamed on settlement, vibration, or “age” — actually trace back to these interventions. The real breakdown of structure often begins after the introduction of modern materials. Cement pointing, concrete banding, rigid steel ties or impermeable plinths change how the wall behaves, locking movement that was once harmless. Instead of slowing decay, they accelerate it.
Over time, this mismatch sets up a destructive cycle. As the wall moves naturally with temperature, moisture or foundation shifts, the hard elements resist. Stress accumulates, causing the surrounding lime and stone to fracture. Water then penetrates the new cracks, becomes trapped by the impermeable repairs, and begins to erode the softer adjacent material. What was once a slow, natural process of weathering turns into rapid mechanical decay — triggered by materials meant to prevent it.
The irony is striking: the attempt to “strengthen” the wall creates the very weaknesses it was supposed to cure. The result is a structure that appears stronger but behaves more weakly — a contradiction born not of neglect, but of misunderstanding the nature of historic masonry.
To repair an old wall successfully, one must understand and respect how it carries its load. The goal is not to impose rigidity but to restore cohesion and flexibility — to allow the wall once again to act as a single, flexible body. Yet many consolidation mistakes arise from failing to understand how masonries actually work. They rely on gentle movement and shared loads between many small parts, not on the kind of stiffness modern materials impose.
Modern repair methods tend to swing between two extremes — too strong and too soft — each producing its own kind of failure.
The first and most common mistake is the over-strengthening of historic walls. Modern structural engineers, trained on reinforced concrete and steel structures, instinctively equate safety with strength. When faced with cracked or leaning masonry, their reflex is to “reinforce” it — to make it harder, stiffer and stronger.
The materials chosen for such interventions — cement, concrete bands, epoxy resins, steel beams and tie rods — all share one trait: they are many times stronger and stiffer than the lime-based mortars and soft bricks of the original fabric. They stop the wall from moving and breathing. Instead of stabilising it, they block its natural ability to distribute stress.
For case in point, here are some figures:
The contrast is striking.
The physical mismatch is further worsened by other properties. Cement and concrete are dense and almost vapour-tight (non-breathable), preventing moisture from escaping and trapping dampness in the wall. Their chemical composition introduces salts that can react with the original lime or stone, while steel elements expand as they rust, physically bursting the masonry that surrounds them.
So while these materials appear strong on paper, their strength comes at the cost of compatibility. They might look “strong” on paper, in old masonries that strength becomes a liability. In a living wall that depends on flexibility, breathability and shared compression, such materials behave like rigid islands. They block the natural movement of the structure and concentrate stress at their edges — causing the very cracks and failures they were meant to prevent. The harder, denser and more impermeable a material is, the more violently it conflicts with the wall’s natural movement and moisture balance.
At first, the intervention may look solid, even reassuring. But over time, the rigidity of the inserted material begins to work against the wall. Seasonal expansion, small movements, or thermal shifts concentrate stress along the joint between the new and the old. Cracks form precisely where the systems meet, marking the boundary between incompatible materials. The harder component always wins — until it causes the masonry around it to lose.
This is why over-strength repairs often accelerate decay rather than prevent it. They ignore the wall’s original logic: flexibility, friction, and shared load paths.
Old masonry doesn’t fail because it’s weak; it fails when it loses its ability for its blocks to work together.
At the other extreme is the overly cautious repair — the belief that the safest mortar is always the weakest. Some conservators, reacting against the harms of cement, specify mortars so soft that they have little structural function. These lime-rich mixes are vapour-open and kind to historic materials, but when the masonry itself has lost cohesion or must bear load, such mortars are too soft to reconnect or stabilise it.
A very weak mortar cannot transmit load effectively between bricks or stones. It may shrink, crumble or wash out under prolonged wetting and frost. The wall remains essentially unbound — cosmetically repaired but mechanically fragile. What appears as a safe, gentle intervention actually leaves the building vulnerable to continued movement and water penetration.
Soft mortars are essential in repointing or plastering where the goal is sacrificial protection, but they cannot replace structural cohesion when the wall’s core has failed. When the problem is structural, the remedy must be structural too — not aggressive, but adequately strong to re-establish continuity within the wall.
Both extremes — the engineer’s reflex and the cautious conservator’s — fail for the same reason: they think in absolutes. One side believes strength solves everything; the other believes weakness avoids all harm. But old masonry thrives in neither rigidity nor weakness.
Successful consolidation means finding the middle ground, where the repair materials restore friction, cohesion and continuity without overpowering the masonry. The mortar must be strong enough to reconnect, yet soft and porous enough to remain a true partner to the wall.
This is where structural lime mortars, such as the Roman-style pozzolanic mixes, come into their own. They bridge the gap between the extremes — offering moderate strength with flexibility, durability with breathability. These materials do not fight the wall’s natural behaviour; they rejoin it, bringing back the balance that made the structure endure for centuries.
Structural Roman lime mortars such as Betoncino MGN or Modena M5 MGN were developed precisely to occupy the middle ground between weakness and over-strength. They behave like lime but carry enough internal strength to reconnect a disjointed wall. Their pozzolanic chemistry forms minute silicate bonds that give firmness and early set while keeping the open pore structure and flexibility of traditional lime.
A structural lime mortar doesn’t try to make the wall hard; it makes it coherent again. Within the masonry it fills voids, binds units, and restores the friction that allows loads to pass safely through the fabric. Because it remains slightly elastic, it compresses and recovers with the wall instead of forcing it apart. It also stays vapour-open, allowing moisture to move through rather than trapping it behind impermeable skins.
Mechanically, these mortars work through a balance of three key traits:
In practice, a pozzolanic lime of around 15 N/mm² compressive strength provides just that equilibrium: strong enough to stabilise a weakened wall, yet soft and open enough to remain in tune with historic materials. Unlike cement, it doesn’t create rigid islands; unlike pure air lime, it doesn’t lose cohesion under load.
The best evidence for this balanced strength lies not in modern testing, but in the walls that still stand. Roman mortars built on exactly the same pozzolanic principles have survived nearly two millennia of weather, earthquakes and neglect. Their resilience has been studied extensively in the last few decades and provides tangible proof of the system’s long-term success.
These examples all demonstrate the same principle: moderate strength with flexibility outlasts rigidity every time. The Roman system worked not because it was hard, but because it was right.
Modern pozzolanic lime mortars such as Betoncino MGN and Modena M5 MGN follow that same principle — a carefully tuned mineral system that reintroduces strength in harmony with breathability and movement. Their heritage is not theoretical; it’s standing proof, written in stone and lime across the walls of the ancient world.
Understanding the principles of compatible strength is one thing; applying them correctly on site is another. In practice, structural lime mortars are used not as decorative finishes, but as functional consolidants — materials that restore the internal unity of a wall while keeping its natural movement and breathability. The same balance that made Roman structures endure is now used to stabilise historic masonry without resorting to rigid modern substitutes.
When applied with care, these techniques create what the Romans achieved two thousand years ago: a structure where materials cooperate rather than compete. The wall becomes a living system again — firm, dry and stable, yet still able to breathe and move.
Unlike cement-based systems, structural lime consolidations do not impose a new character on the building; they restore the old one. The materials remain mineral, reversible and fully compatible, ensuring that a repair today will not become tomorrow’s problem.
In structural conservation, safety lies not at the ends of the scale but in its centre. Walls don't fail because they are soft, they fail because they lose cohesion — and they fail again when rigid materials prevent that cohesion from returning.
Structural lime mortars offer the right kind of hardness: strength that works with the masonry, not against it. They restore friction, balance and breathability while allowing the wall to flex and age naturally. Two thousand years of proof stand across Europe’s ancient buildings and harbours — monuments not to brute force, but to intelligent material harmony.
Strong enough to hold, soft enough to live — that is the enduring lesson of Roman lime and the guiding principle of every good heritage repair today.
Here are some other related pages that you might want to read to broaden your knowledge in this field.
Here are some practical solutions related to this topic:
Here are the some recommended materials / products that can help solving or dealing with some of the problems discussed on this page.
Here are some of our projects where we have dealt with some of the issues discussed on this page:
Here are some photos demonstrating these concepts. Click on any image to open the photo gallery.
The partial restoration and structural consolidation of the Ferrara Castle (Castello Estense), a 14th-century moated medieval fortress located in the heart of Ferrara, northern Italy—as presented by the Ferrara City Council at the 30th International Conservation and Environmental Heritage Show 2025, Ferrara, Italy.
Structural consolidation of an old door frame with a Roman lime plaster. The wall fabric decayed as a result of excess humidity from wind driven rain and salt crystallization.
Here is an application example of the Betoncino Consolidante MGN structural reinforcement mortar used on an old barn with damaged, weakened masonry.