Illustration: Matilda Marian Pullan. Crocheted d'oyley pattern, 1856.
The humble d'oyley, doily, or indeed doilie, doyley, or d'oilie, is often overlooked as nothing more than a Victorian affectation, a means of interior fussiness, seemingly so beloved in the nineteenth century. However, like all things 'factual' the truth is often more complex and multi-faceted than we would often like it to be. The d'oyley served a number of practical purposes, rather than just the perceived one of over-fussiness, from protecting furniture surfaces from excessive scratching, to the collection of any spare crumbs and drips from various foods and appliances. Therefore there were cheese d'oyleys, as well as cruet, spirit (as in paraffin), vase, cake and candlestick d'oyleys. There were also definitions between food, toilet and general living d'oyleys, as well as definitions between those made using expensive materials, as well as those made using basic crochet compared with those made using more complex lace styles and patterns.
Illustration: Matilda Marian Pullan. Crocheted cheese d'oyley pattern, 1856.
The 1885 edition of The Dictionary of Needlework by Sophia Caulfield and Blanche Saward, defined the d'oyley, (their spelling), as:
'This was once the name of a woollen stuff, but is now that of a small article of napery. It is usually produced with fringed edges, for use at dessert, or for the toilet. D'oyleys are woven in both cotton and linen; in white and ingrain colours. The name appears to be derived from the Dutch dwaele, signifying a towel.'
'Napery' was another term for generalised house linen.
However, perhaps more interesting from a decorative and craft point of view was the fact that the d'oyley was a perfect vehicle for decorative detailing and exploration of pattern work, usually through the medium of crochet lace. Although d'oyleys were often circular, this was not always the case. Indeed, they could be produced as either ovals or squares, as well as hexagons, octagons and so forth. In theory, because of the adaptability of crochet, the shape of a d'oyley could be relatively wide-scaling, although conventions did tend to limit the majority to the circular.
Illustration: Matilda Marian Pullan. Crocheted d'oyley pattern, 1856.
D'oyleys were also in no way confined to white or cream as is often portrayed today. Colours were only really limited by the imagination of the maker or buyer. In this respect, d'oyleys could be made to reflect colour schemes within interiors and even to follow the colours represented by various foods or accessories on a dressing table for example. D'oyley's could also be graded by gauge. Therefore, they tended to range from very fine delicate pieces to others that appeared more like mats, both extremes being used for very different practical purposes.
From the mid-nineteenth century onwards, women's magazines, journals and booklets were awash with different variations of the crocheted d'oyley. Some came with full making instructions, while others gave an indication of pattern work that could easily be copied by a competent crochet maker. This meant that in reality there was a near infinite variety of d'oyley patterns, each one being either subtly different or markedly so from the next, depending on the tastes and aspirations of the individual maker.
Illustration: Matilda Marian Pullan. 'The Ruby' crocheted jewelled d'oyley pattern, 1856.
All five of the examples in this article were designed by Matilda Marian Pullan and were produced for general copying in 1856. Pullan herself produced a whole range of products for domestic makers, not just the crocheted d'oyley. However, the examples illustrated in this particular give a good indication of the range of styles that were available within one year, and that in just the conventional rounded form of d'oyley. Incidentally, Pullan regularly featured in a whole range of magazines from the period including Illustrated Magazine of Art, Lady's Companion, Home Circle, Family Friend, New York Leader, Leslie's Family Magazine and the London Review. She also produced a plethora of books and handbooks including Dictionary of Needlework (1856), Manual of the Wardrobe (1858) and The Lady's Manual of Fancywork (1859).
D'oyleys proved so popular with both buyers and makers that nearly every single household ended up with a plethora of hand or machine, cotton and linen d'oyleys. When eventually most of the public moved on from what was seen as overly fussy and stuffy interiors, d'oyleys were often thrown out with the rest of the now redundant decorative interior accessories from another era. In many ways this was a shame as the humble d'oyley often had a personal connection with families, being crafted by past generations, and although no longer featured as an integral part of contemporary interiors, it was perhaps a missed opportunity that more were not kept in drawers and cupboards as connecting reminders with past generations which often are so tenuous and fleeting.
Illustration: Matilda Marian Pullan. Crocheted d'oyley pattern, 1856.
Although historically derieved d'oyleys are still with us and are collected by some, most have no real provenance and are largely unconnected with families or individuals. The crocheted d'oyley, as opposed to the mass produced paper one which is still very much with us, is seen by much of the contemporary world as nothing more than an interesting, although fussy phenomenon from a world that no longer exits.
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