The earliest beginnings of the Ivrea Carnival are shrouded in the mists of the past. It is clear, however, that in the roistering days of yore, when the unlit streets obviously lent a helping hand, carnival time was the signal for scenes dear to Boccaccio, flavoured with many a scuffle between the townsfolk from different quarters. In the 17th and 18th centuries, in fact, each of Ivrea's five wards celebrated the grand occasion according to its own lights. Clashes in the dark were thus a somewhat natural and inevitable corollary of this farewell to meat, though not to arms, so much so that the authorities in 1745 were fain to forbid one and all "to tarry in and go about the streets without a light ... in order to make provision against the disturbances and disorders that do most principally arise at carnival".

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At the beginning of the 19th century, indeed, the libertarian spirit to which this season gave ample vent eventually became a cause of concern to the French officials now in charge, since Ivrea had by now been raised during this Napoleonic interlude in local history to the dubious dignity of chief town in the Département de la Dora. In 1808, therefore, a grande alliance was imposed. Henceforth, a single city carnival would replace those hitherto celebrated in its several districts, while the hauteur of this unification was to be most meetly underscored by allowing a chosen townsman to deck himself out in the rig of a General in Napoleon's army, no less, and surround himself with a staff bearing an evident resemblance to Boney's entourage. The people of Ivrea, however, were hardly in need of imported notions of liberté. Way back in 1194, they had been up in arms against the tyranny of Count Raineri di Biandrate and destroyed his old Castellazzo for good measure. The prime mover of this pristine revolt was a certain Violetta, whose father ran one of the floating mills that once exploited the waters of the Dora.

 

 

 

 

The legend has it that this young lady and her sweetheart Toniotto were altarbound. In those earthy times, however, feudal rights and privileges embraced the jus primae noctis. What more understandable, therefore, than that Violetta should get her blow in first and whisk off the dastardly count's head before she herself was deflowered?

 

 

 

A second revolt appears in the annals for 1266, when the men of Ivrea ousted the Marquis of Monferrato. This event is enshrined in the "Preda in Dora" ceremony described in the account of the Carnival of Ivrea that follows. The legendary figure of the bold Violetta has thus travelled down the centuries to become Ivrea's symbol of freedom from all forms of tyranny, one rendered doubly dear to the hearts of the townsfolk on account of its feminine allure. The Risorgimento lent a further impulse to this tradition, and since 1858 Violetta in the person of a local lady stands alongside the General as the heroine of the Ivrea Carnival.

 

 

 

 

A more recent addition is the orange fight. Royal battles are fought in the town's historical squares between throwers on foot representing the people in revolt and others on waggons drawn by horses in gay trappings, who take the part of the tyrant's officers. Another feature introduced by the French Revolution is the sort of red woollen nightcap falling over the right shoulder. Known as the "Phrygian bonnet" by analogy with the cap worn by freed slaves in Rome and adopted in France as a Republican symbol, this is de rigueur for those who venture out between Ivrea's red towers and the cerulean Dora during carnival time. An account will now be given of the individual items on the calendar of the Ivrea Carnival from Epiphany to Ash Wednesday, the various ceremonies and other events that take place, and their historical background.