The history of Ivrea is so long and so dense with events — all unfolding within a relatively small space, since the city has grown upon itself since its very founding — that traces of a surprising past are found just steps apart from one another. All that remains is to discover them gradually, and to let oneself be lulled by the curious mixture of silence and clamour that Ivrea offers to those who listen to time.
With the Dora at one’s back, not far from where the Roman Pons Maior once began, climbing Via Siccardi toward Piazza di Città one encounters, on the right, a fine stone and brick building of thirteenth-century origins. This is the former Convent of San Francesco, today home to various activities and to the offices of the Police Commissioner’s office, and notable also for a fine internal staircase.
And on the left, a little further on, stands a building that today houses a school: Casa Stria. It belonged to an important Eporediese family and is a fine example of medieval aristocratic architecture. The building preserves decorative elements of particular interest: the façade is enriched by a terracotta cornice with motifs typical of the period, including trilobed arches, plant motifs and rope interlace. There are also two broad archways and a string course considered among the most significant in the Canavese. The value of these elements was recognised in a later era too: in 1884 Alfredo d’Andrade reproduced their motifs in the Borgo Medievale del Valentino in Turin.
But what the building offers us is, once again, a story: here, on 2 May 1391, Amedeo VII of Savoy signed, together with the nobles of the Canavese and the representatives of the rebel Tuchini, the Convenzione di Ivrea. The agreement sealed the end of the so-called Tuchinaggio: the popular peasant revolt that broke out in a territory governed without equity or justice, oppressed and exhausted by continuous conflicts between the local feudal lords, which had led to the occupation of lands and the looting of several castles. An echo of this revolt has never faded from the Canavese memory — one need only recall the name of the team of orange-throwers that animates the Borghetto every Carnival.
