I wonder when we in the Modern World lost the idea of “home” as a place of work,  rest and refuge and instead began to think of it as a place of status and luxury. We had a book in our museum in Northern Maine that showed photos of Acadian homes in the first thirty years of the twentieth century. These homes were full of people, children mostly, and women working. The women, in kerchiefs and aprons, were kneading bread, sewing on treadle machines, and weaving bed covers or blankets. They were canning vegetables. They were washing clothes. They were carrying babies and sometimes playing the piano. The homes were far from luxurious, often big, heated with huge woodstoves. The rooms were not even Montgomery Ward furnished. The family rooms, kitchens and dining rooms were full of country-made straight back chairs and a few tables, with oil lamps in the middle. I was so surprised that there there were very few upholstered chairs and no sofas. 

The bedrooms were equally plain. Beds – usually big feather beds, took up the floor space, with simple dressers, washstands and hooks on the walls for  dresses, shirts and pants.  The rugs and bedspreads were handwoven from wool rags. Beds were covered from headboard to the foot with a clean linen cloth. Children slept as many as fit to the bed, for warmth and for utility of space. A private bedroom was something one got when married, shared with the spouse (and often a nursing infant within the year). Occasionally an elder had a room to him or herself, but grandmothers often shared with their granddaughters or a single female relative. (My grandmother remembered being put to bed in the dining room in a cot in the corner.)

People worked in their homes. Besides the cooking and cleaning and clotheswashing, women spun, knit, wove and sewed. They made cheese and pickles and delicious preserved meats from all parts of the pig or steer. (I love creton, but I have to ignore what it’s made from.) Men split wood, farmed, milked, and worked in mills or lumber camps. There was no television, of course, and only a few homes in the St. John River Valley had radio until World War II.

Work is what these people did. Their recreation, once past the age of games in the yard, was music or  prayer. Their homes were not decorated in any sense. Windows were covered with plain fabrics; pictures on the walls were usually religious subjects and sometimes those plaster-framed, wooden-faced family portraits. These people weren’t “plain” as a theoretical way of life. They lived plain because it was practical. There was simply no room in their lives for frivolity. Almost everything they needed was raised on the farm or nearby, or made in the village.

This is my point: If we are plain because we think it’s a good idea, or a counter-cultural fashion statement, or an aesthetic, we will soon tire of it and turn to some other fad or philosohpy, because it is hard work. It is strenuous to maintain the inner life of simplicity, and to turn away from the vain things of the world, the vapid amusements of popular culture. We don’t need the temptation inherent in playing at plain while remaining enmeshed in the world. We have to surround ourselves with safeguards against that temptation. We have to limit our exposure to television, films, popular books and magazines, and frivolous amusements. And we have to seek out recreation that is Godly, modest and uplifting.

While we have a television in the house, we avoid most programmes. We watch sports, natural history, programmes on science, some history, homebuilding and gardening shows, and the occasional film. (We hadn’t had a television until recently, and did not miss it.) We often mute or surf over the commercials, which are so often offensive. We don’t listen to commerical radio at all. If we had small children at home, we wouldn’t have a television. Even educational television is detrimental to children, studies show; my observation is that it lowers their attention span and promotes frenetic activity.

What if televisions just disappeared? Would it improve our lives? Most people would say, yes, it would. Children would play outside; adults would talk to each other. We would have lots more time. My advice: Get rid of the television. Bury it in the backyard. Throw it in a pond. I doubt if it’s safe to hit it with a maul, but my husband has plans to build a trebuchet specifically for launching the television into a gravel quarry. If we could persuade the rest of the household to get rid of the monster, we would. (They admit they find our choice of shows very boring.)

As for the other furnishings of our homes: Where can I begin? Practicality should be the first consideration, not style. Like the people of the St. John River Valley a century ago, I lived without sofas fairly often, as they are large, expensive and impossible for a small woman to move on her own. If I had one it was because someone else left it in the house where I moved. I’ve never bought a full-sized sofa, although we did have a dark blue loveseat for a while. Upholstered furniture is hard to clean, too. I need to keep dust mites to a minimum, so I have to be careful about the style of upholstery on any furniture.

That rules out carpets for me, and face it, they just harbour mold, dust mites and grime. They are hardly sanitary, as they can’t be easily cleaned.  Carpets are traditionally a status symbol, and a few hundred years ago, they were hung on the wall, not laid on the floor. They still represent status and worldly success. A plain wood or tile floor is easier to clean and maintain, lasts much longer and doesn’t go out of fashion (if one avoids patterned tiles or fancy wood inlays.) For areas where added warmth is needed, the handmade rag rug works well, and anyone can make one on a homemade frame loom. Small ones are especially useful, as they can be easily washed.

As for “ornaments” in a room – why?  Pull the curtains open and look at nature. Again, paintings (or their cheap alternative, prints) and china or other dimensional ornaments are intended to express status and wealth, or that ephemeral quality, taste. Tables bare of everything but the necessary lamps will suffice in the plain home, and the lamps need to be functional for reading and handwork, not for “atmosphere” or that crazy phrase, “mood lighting.”

The household china belongs in cabinets, preferably with doors or curtains to keep out the dust. It’s not meant to be displayed (well, it is, but shouldn’t be.) And the china should be simple and outside the realm of “style.”

Our walls are hung with icons, not family photos. Photos make me uncomfortable, except for the casual snapshot of the kids (haven’t they grown?) sent to distant relatives. Our glass cabinet has books in it, not Dresden figurines or collectibles.

We are not country-charm plain. Most people think our home is rather sparse, when we furnish it ourselves. (Shared space is another matter.) But it’s our work and living space, not a statement of our fashion acumen.