Cape & Cloak

Cape (pronounced keyp)

(1) A sleeveless garment of various lengths, fastened around the neck and falling loosely from the shoulders, worn separately or attached to a coat or other outer garment.

(2) The capa of a bullfighter.

(3) The act of caping.

(4) Of a matador or capeador during a bullfight, to induce and guide the charge of a bull by flourishing a capa.

(5) A piece of land jutting into the sea or some other large body of water; a headland or promontory

(6) In nautical use, of a ship said to have good steering qualities or to head or point; to keep a course.

(7) As The Cape (always initial capital letters), pertaining to the Cape of Good Hope or to (historically) to all South Africa.

(8) To skin an animal, particularly a deer.

(9) To gaze or stare; to look for, search after (obsolete).

1350–1400: From the (northern dialect) Middle English cap, from the Old English cāp, from the Middle French cape & Old Provençal capa, from the Vulgar Latin capum from the Latin caput (head) and reinforced in the sixteenth century by the Spanish capa, from the Late Latin cappa (hooded cloak).  A fork in the Late Old English was capa, & cæppe (cloak with a hood), directly from Late Latin.  In Japanese the word is ケープ (kēpu).  The sense of a "promontory, piece of land jutting into a sea or lake" dates from the late fourteenth century, from the Old French cap (cape; head) from the Latin caput (headland, head), from the primitive Indo-European kaput (head).  The Cape of Good Hope at the southern tip of Africa has been called the Cape since the 1660s, and sailors in 1769 named the low cloud banks that could be mistaken for landforms on the horizon, Cape fly-away.  The obsolete sense of gazing or staring at something & to look for or search after is from the Middle English capen (to stare, gape, look for, seek), from the Old English capian (to look), from the Proto-West Germanic kapēn.  It was cognate with the Dutch gapen, the German gaffen (to stare at curiously) and the Low German gapen (to stare); related to the Modern English keep.

Cardinal George Pell (1941-2023) in Cappa Magna (great cape) with caudatario (train-bearer).  The church's rituals vie with the Eurovison Song Contest and the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras for having the most variety in men's costuming.

Copes are one of many capes in the extensive wardrobe of Roman Catholic clerics and the highlight of any ecclesiastical fashion parade is the silk cappa magna.  Technically a jurisdictional garment, it’s now rarely seen and worn only in processions or when "in choir" (attending but not celebrating services).  Cardinals wear red and bishops violet and both cardinals and papal nuncios are entitled to a cappa magna of watered silk.  Well into the twentieth century, a cappa magna could stretch for nearly 15 metres, (50 feet) but Pius XII’s (1876-1958; pope 1939-1958) motu proprio (literally “on his own impulse”, essentially constitutionally the same as a royal decree which unilaterally creates law) Valde solliciti (1952) laid down that they should not be longer than 7m (23 feet) and later instructions from the Vatican banned them from Rome and curtailed their use elsewhere.  Valde solliciti translates literally as “very worried” and Pius in 1952 was clearly exactly that, concerned at complaints that the extravagance of the Church’s rituals was inappropriate at a time of such troubled austerity.  There was in 1952 still little sign of the remarkable post-war economic recovery which within a decade would be critiqued in Federico Fellini's (1920–1993) film La Dolce Vita (The Sweet Life, 1960).

Actor Anya Taylor-Joy (b 1996) in ankle-length, collared houndstooth cape with matching mini-skirt by Jonathan Anderson (b 1984; creative director of Christian Dior since 2025) over a sleeveless, white, button-down vest and black, stiletto pumps, Paris Fashion Week, October, 2025.

The car is a Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit (1980-1997), the first of the SZ Series platform which would serve the line until 2003.  The Silver Spirit (and the companion LWB (long wheelbase) variant the Silver Spur (1980-2000)) was mechanically little changed from the Silver Shadow (1965-1980) but with styling updated with hints from the still controversial Camargue (1975-1986), a somewhat ungainly two-door saloon designed by Pininfarina which, as an addition to the range which included the conceptually identical Corniche (under various names available since 1966), appeared to have no purpose other than being positioned as the “world’s most expensive car” but that was apparently enough; even in the troubled 1970s, there was a demand for Veblen products.

In the closet: The ensemble awaits.

There were nice touches in the cape, a highlight of the detailing the arpeggiating used for the hem.  In sewing, the arpeggiated stitch is a technique in hand-stitching that creates an invisible and durable finish by catching only a single thread from the main fabric with each stitch.  This demands the hem be folded, turning the garment inside out allowing a hand-held needle to form small, V-shaped stitches by piercing the seam allowance and then the main fabric.  For the necessary robustness to be achieved, the stitching is kept deliberately loose (preventing pulling which would distort the line) with the finished hem pressed and steamed further to conceal the stitch-work.  Obviously labor intensive and therefore expensive to implement, it’s used in garments where the most immaculate finish is desired and although it’s now possible partially to emulate the effect using machine-stitching, the fashion houses know that for their finest, the old ways are best.

Poetry in motion: The lovely Anya Taylor-Joy on the move, illustrating the way the fashion industry cuts its capes to provide a "framing effect" for the rest of the outfit.

Amusingly, although the industry is sensitive to the issue of cultural appropriation (and especially so if matters end up in court), the term “arpeggiated” was “borrowed” from music.  In music, arpeggiate describes the playing of a chord as an arpeggio (the notes of a chord played individually instead of simultaneously, moving usually from lowest to highest but the same word is used whether notes are rising or falling).  It was from the Italian arpeggiare (to play on a harp), the construct being arpa (harp) +‎ -eggiare (a suffix from the Late Latin -izāre and used to form verbs from adjectives or nouns).  The connection comes from the harp’s sound being associated with flowing sequences of notes rather than “block sounds”.  So, the word can be understood as meaning “broken into a rhythmic or sequential pattern, note by note” and the use in sewing (as “arpeggiated stitch”) took the metaphorically from the musical term, referencing a series of short, regularly spaced diagonal or looped stitches that create a flowing, undulating pattern (ie a rising and falling wave-like progression rather than a static block).

Anya Taylor-Joy in cape, swishing around.

Capes often are spoken of as having an “equestrian look” and it’s true capes do have a long tradition on horseback, both in military and civilian use although in fashion the traditional cut of the fabric has evolved into something better thought of as a “framing effect” for what is worn beneath.  That differs from the more enveloping capes worn by those in professions as diverse as cavalry officers and nomadic sheep herders form whom a cape was there to afford protection from the elements and to act as barrier to the dust and mud which is a way of life in such professions.  On the catwalks and red carpets there’s not usually much mud thrown about (other than metaphorically when the “best & worst dressed” lists appear) and the cape is there just for the visual effect.  That effect is best understood on the move because a cape on its hanger is a lifeless thing whereas when on someone walking so it can flow, coming alive; models become expert in exploiting the billowing made possible by the “sail-like” behavior of the fabric when the fluid dynamics of air are allowed to do their stuff.  A skilled model can make a cape swish seductively.

Imelda Marcos (she of “the shoes”, b 1929; First Lady of the Philippines 1965-1986, left) and General Augusto Pinochet (1915-2006; dictator of Chile 1973-1990) at the funeral of Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975), Plaza de Oriente, Madrid, Spain, 23 November, 1975.  Franco was something of a model for Pinochet in terms of approach to public administration (having tiresome people “disappeared” or taken outside and shot etc) but not so much in sartorial matters, the Caudillo never having shown much fondness for capes.

Franco’s body originally was interred in a granite and marble crypt beneath the basilica floor of Valle de los Caídos (Valley of the Fallen), a mausoleum & memorial site in the Sierra de Guadarrama mountain range close to Madrid, built by order of the Generalissimo at the end of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).  The vast structure, officially opened in 1959, was said the government to be a “national act of atonement” and symbol of reconciliation but controversies about the war and Franco’s subsequent dictatorship were only ever suppressed and in the decades after his death the political and legal manoeuvres to remove from public display all the many relics of the glorification of the victory and dictatorship gathered strength.  In October 2019, his remains were exhumed from the mausoleum and re-interred in the Mingorrubio Cemetery in El Pardo, this time in a family crypt, an event which much divided opinion.  The forces unleashed by the civil war and its decades-long aftermath remain a cleavage in Spanish society and political scientists expect the tensions to continue, even after the war passes from living memory.  In his last public speech a few weeks before his death, Franco had warned the country it remained threatened by a conspiracy involving “communists, left-wing terrorists and Freemasons”.

Cloak (pronounced klohk)

(1) A wrap-like outer garment fastened at the throat and falling straight from the shoulders.

(2) Something that covers or conceals; disguise; pretense.

(3) To cover with or as if with a cloak.

(4) To hide; conceal.

(5) In internet use, a text replacement for an IRC user's hostname or IP address, which makes the user less identifiable.

1175–1225: From the Middle English cloke, from the Old North French cloque, from the Old French cloche & cloke (traveling cloak) from the Medieval Latin cloca (travelers' cape), a variant of clocca (bell-shaped cape (literally “a bell”) and of Celtic origin, from the Proto-Celtic klokkos (and ultimately imitative).  The best known mention of cloak in scripture is in 1 Thessalonians 2:5: For neither at any time “vsed wee flattering wordes, as yee knowe, nor a cloke of couetousnesse, God is witnesse”

The cloak was an article of everyday wear as a protection from the weather for either sex in Europe for centuries, use fluctuating but worn well into the twentieth century, a noted spike happening when revived in the early 1800s as a high-collared circular form fashion garment, then often called a Spanish cloak.  The figurative use "that which covers or conceals; a pretext" dates from the 1520s.  The adjectival phrase cloak-and-dagger is attested from 1848, said to be a translation of the French de cape et d'épée, as something suggestive of stealthy violence and intrigue.  Cloak-and-sword was used from 1806 in reference to the cheap melodramatic romantic adventure stories then published, a similar use to the way sword-and-sandals was used dismissively to refer to the many films made during the 1950s which were set during the Roman Empire.  The cloak-room (or cloakroom), "a room connected with an assembly-hall, opera-house, etc., where cloaks and other articles are temporarily deposited" is attested from 1827 and later extended to railway offices for temporary storage of luggage; by the mid twentieth century it was, like power room and bathroom, one of the many euphemisms for the loo, WC, lavatory.  The undercloak was a similar, lighter garment worn for additional protection under the cloak proper.

The cape and the coat worn as cloak.  A caped Hermann Göring (left), photographed on the way to the lavish celebrations the state staged (and paid for) to mark his 45^th birthday, Berlin, January, 1938 (left) and in sable-trimmed coat with Luffwaffe General Paul Conrath (1896–1979), Soviet Union, 1942 (right). Worn over the shoulders, a coat becomes cloak-like.

Ruthless, energetic and dynamic in the early years of Nazi rule, Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) was the driving force in the build-up of the Luftwaffe (the German air force) but as things went from bad to worse as the fortunes of war changed, he became neglectful of his many responsibilities, described in 1945 upon his arrival at the jail attached to the Palace of Justice at Nuremberg as “a decayed voluptuary”.  However, he never lost his love for military decorations & uniforms, designing many of his own to suit the unique rank of Reichsmarschall (a kind of six-star general or generalissimo) he held including some in white, sky blue and, as the allied armies closed in on Germany, a more military olive green.  He became fond of capes (all that material can conceal corpulence) and had a number tailored to match his uniforms, Count Galeazzo Ciano (1903–1944; Italian foreign minister 1936-1944) in January 1942 noting of Göring’s visit to Rome: “As usual he is bloated and overbearing”, two days later adding “We had dinner at the Excelsior Hotel, and during the dinner Goering talked of little else but the jewels he owned.  In fact, he had some beautiful rings on his fingers… On the way to the station he wore a great sable coat, something between what automobile drivers wore in 1906 and what a high-grade prostitute wears to the opera.”

As well as his vividly entertaining diaries, Ciano was noted for having married the daughter of Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943).  The marriage was certainly a good career move (the Italians would joke of the one they called “ducellio”: “the son-in-law also rises”) although things didn’t end well, Il Duce having him shot (at the insistence of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945), something which over the years must have drawn the envy of many a father-in-law (a sentiment was expressed by Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) who thought his daughters' tastes in men sometimes appalling).  Like the bemedaled Reichsmarschall, the count was also a keen collector of gongs and in 1935, during the Second Italo-Ethiopian War (the last war of conquest in the era of European colonialism which even at the time seemed to many an embarrassing anachronism), Ciano had commanded the Regia Aeronautica's (Royal Air Force) 15^th Bomber Flight (nicknamed La Disperata (the desperate ones)) in air-raids on tribal forces equipped with only primitive weapons, being awarded the Medaglia d'argento al valor militare (Silver Medal of Military Valor), prompting some to observe he deserved a gold medal for bravery in accepting a silver one, his time in the air having but barely & briefly exposed him to risk.

The difference

Lindsay Lohan in Lavish Alice striped cape, June 2015.

There probably was a time when the distinction between a cape and a cloak was well defined and understood but opportunistic marketing practices and a declining use of both styles has seen the meaning blur and, in commerce, perhaps morph.  Described correctly, there are differences, defined mostly by length, style and function and what they have in common is that while there are layered versions, generally both are made from one sheet of fabric and worn draped over the shoulders, without sleeves.  The most obvious difference is in length, capes in general being much shorter than cloaks, the length of a cape usually anywhere from the top of the torso to the hips and rarely will a cape fall past the thighs.  By comparison, even the shortest cloak falls below the knees, many are calf-length at minimum and the most luxurious, floor-length.

Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche full-length hooded cloak in black velvet.

Stylistically, cloaks and capes differ also in aesthetic detail.  Capes typically cover the back and are open and loose in the front, fastening around the neck with a tiny hook or cords that tie together, although in recent years it’s become fashionable to tailor capes with button or zipper closures down the front.  Traditionally too, capes have tended to be more colorful and embellished with decoration, reflecting their origin as fashion items whereas the history of the cloak was one of pure functionally, protection from the weather and the dirt and grime of life.  Some capes even come with a belt looped through them, creating the look of a cinched waist with billowing sleeves.  Cloaks cover the front and back.  They are more streamlined, fitted and tailored than capes and, because of the tailoring, in earlier times, a small number of women in society sometimes wore cloaks styled like a dress, adorned with belts, gloves and jewelry.  This is rarely done today, but a cloak is still dressier than a cape or coat and can be stunning if worn over an evening gown.  As that suggests, the cloak could function as a social signifier of rank or wealth; although worn by all for warmth, a garment of made from an expensive material or lined with silk was clearly beyond what was needed to fend off mud from the street.

Audrey Hepburn (1929–1993) in calf-length cloak over taffeta.

Because of its origins as something protective, hoods are more commonly seen on cloaks; rare on capes which may have a collar for added warmth bit often not even that.  It’s value as a fashion piece aside, a cape’s main function is to cover the back of the wearer, just for warmth.  Because a cape is much shorter than a cloak, slit openings for the arms are not always necessary because arms easily pass through the bottom opening whereas a cloak usually has slit openings for the arms since the length demands it.  Cloaks were supplanted by coats in the post-war years and exist now mostly as a high-fashion pieces, capes in a similar niche in the lower-end of the market.

The cloak as workwear

Cloak and axe of Giovanni Battista Bugatti (1779–1869), official executioner for the Papal States 1796-1864, Criminology Museum of Rome.  Woodcuts and other depictions from the era suggest the blood-red cloak wasn't always worn during executions. 

Giovanni Battista Bugatti began his career at a youthful 17 under Pius VI (1717–1799; pope 1775-1799) and diligently he served six pontiffs before being pensioned off by Pius IX (1792–1878; pope 1846-1878), his retirement induced not by the Holy See losing enthusiasm for the death penalty because one Antonio Balducci succeeded him in the office which fell into disuse only with the loss of the Papal States (756-1870; a conglomeration of territories in the central & northern Italian peninsula under the personal sovereignty of the pope), after the unification of Italy.  Unlike his illustrious predecessor, history has recorded little about Signor Balducci although it’s known he performed his final execution in 1870.  Signor Bugatti was by far the longest-serving of the Papal States’ many executioners and locals dubbed him Mastro Titta, a titular corruption of maestro di giustizia (master of justice) and his 69 year tenure in his unusual role can be accounted for only by either (1) he felt dispatching the condemned a calling or (2) he really enjoyed his work, because his employers were most parsimonious: he received no retainer and only a small fee per commission (although he was granted a small, official residence).  His tenure was long and included 516 victims (he preferred to call them “patients”, the term adopted also by Romans who enjoyed the darkly humorous) but was only ever a part-time gig; most of his income came from his work as an umbrella painter (a part of the labour market which exists still in an artisan niche).  Depending on this and that, his devices included the axe, guillotine, noose or mallet while the offences punished ranged from the serious (murder, conspiracy, sedition etc) to the petty (habitual thieves and trouble-makers).

Cardinal Pietro Gasparri (1852–1934; Cardinal Secretary of State 1914-1930, left) and Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943, right), signing the Lateran Treaty, Lateran Palace, Rome, 11 February 1929.

Although as early as 1786 the Grand Duchy of Tuscany became the first Italian state to abolish the death penalty (torture also banned), the sentence remained on the books in the Papal States; then as now, the poor disproportionately were victims of the sanction, similar (or worse) crimes by the bourgeoisie or nobility usually handled with less severity, “hushed-up” or just ignored, an aspect in the administration of justice not unknown in modern, Western liberal democracies.  With the loss of the Papal States, the pope’s temporal domain shrunk to little more than what lay around St Peter’s Square; indeed between 1870 and the signing of Lateran Treaty (1929) after which the Italian state recognized Vatican City as a sovereign state, no pope left the Vatican, their status as self-imposed prisoners a political gesture.  The Lateran treaty acknowledged the validity of the sentence (Article 8 of the 1929 Vatican City Penal Code stating anyone who attempted to assassinate the pope would be subject to the death penalty) although this provision was never used, tempted though some popes must have been.  Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) in 1969 struck capital punishment from the Vatican's legal code and the last reference to the sanction vanished in 2001 under Saint John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005).  Although some states are believed to have (secretly) on the payroll one or more "executioners", retained to arrange assassinations when required, it's not believed the Vatican still has one.  

Rook

Rook (pronounced rook)

(1) A large Eurasian passerine bird, Corvus frugilegus, with a black plumage and a whitish base to its bill from the family Corvidae (crows) and noted for its gregarious habits.

(2) In slang, a swindler, someone who cheats at cards, dice etc; a deceiver or fraudster.

(3) In slang, someone who betrays (now rare).

(4) In slang, a bad deal; rip off.

(5) In historic English slang, a parson, vicar, priest etc (based on the traditional black cassock clerics wore).  A variant with a similar origin was Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) disparaging German Roman Catholic clergymen as “diese schwarzen Krähen” (those black crows). 

(6) In chess, one of four pieces (two of each color) that may be moved any number of unobstructed squares horizontally or vertically; also called castle.  Rooks start the game on the four corners of the board.

(7) As chess rook, in Canadian heraldry, the cadency mark of a fifth daughter.

(8) In cards, a trick-taking game, played usually with a specialized deck. 

(9) As rookie, a type of firecracker used by farmers in the UK to scare birds (including, but not restricted to, rooks).

(10) To cheat, fleece or swindle.

Pre 900: From the Middle English rok & roke, from the Old English hrōc, from the Proto-West Germanic hrōk, from the Proto-Germanic hrōkaz.  In other languages there was the Old Norse hrókr, the Saterland Frisian Rouk, the Middle Swedish roka, the Old High German hruoh (crow), the Middle Dutch roec and Dutch roek (and the obsolete German Ruch, from the primitive Indo-European kerk- (crow, raven).  Related avian forms included the Old Irish cerc (hen), the Old Prussian kerko (loon, diver), the dialectal Bulgarian кро́кон (krókon) (raven), the Ancient Greek κόραξ (kórax) (crow), the Old Armenian ագռաւ (agṙaw), the Avestan kahrkatat (rooster), the Sanskrit कृकर (kṛkara) and the Ukrainian крук (kruk) (raven). The Old French was roc, from the Spanish rocho & ruc, from the Arabic رُخّ‎ (ruḵḵ), from the Persian رخ‎ (rox).  Use as the bird’s name was possibly imitative of its raucous voice, an etymology hinted at by other languages (the Gaelic roc (as in "croak") and the Sanskrit kruc (as in "to cry out")).  Rook & rooking are nouns & verbs, rookery, rooker & rooklet are nouns, rooked is a verb, rookish, rooless, rooklike & rooky are adjectives, rookie is a noun, verb & adjective and rookwise is an adjective & adverb; the noun plural is rooks.

Chess pieces.

Rook was applied as a disparaging term for persons since at least the early sixteenth century, extended by the 1570s to mean "a cheat", especially at cards or dice, this probably associated with the thieving habits of the rook, a habit it shares with other acquisitive corvine birds like the crow and magpie.  The adverb rookwise can be applied to anyone or anything said to be moving exclusively in “a cardinal direction” (ie toward any of the four principal points of the compass: north, south, east and west), as a rook moves on a chessboard.  In use, it’s applied usually to mean “in the perpendicular or horizontal” (as opposed to a curve, diagonal or other angle) though not of necessity to true north, south, east or west.  The companion term is bishopwise (moving exclusively in diagonals, as a bishop moves on a chessboard).  A rooker is a person who cheats or swindles but the victim is not described as a “rookee”; other terms are applied to these unfortunates.  Rookie means (1) someone new to some activity (much used thus in sport), (2) an inexperienced recruit (much used thus in the military & law enforcement) and (3) a firecracker used in the UK to scare birds away from crops) but it’s only the use in agriculture which is related to the bird. Rookie may have been some sort of phonetic derivative for “recruit” or may be from either (1) the Dutch broekie (short for broekvent (a boy still so young as to be in short trousers)) which was a common a common term for “a shipmate” or (2) the Irish rúca (an inexperienced person).

Rendered by Vovsoft as cartoon character: a young Lindsay Lohan moves her rook.

Chess arrived in Russia perhaps as early as the ninth century, the path via the Islamic world from India and soon it was being played in much of Europe.  The rook gained its name from the chaturanga, the piece used in Indian chess and represented by a रथ (ratha) (a war chariot); when the game was adopted by the Persians, ratha became رخ (rukh) (chariot), the term retained by the Arabic-speaking world and in this form it reached Europe.  It was adapted in the Italian as rocco and in the Old French as roc or roche, the later influencing English when eventually it evolved into rook (although in Middle English the name of the chess piece was sometimes confused with the roc (the enormous mythical bird in Eastern legend).  The name thus changed little between languages and nor did the strategic role of the piece vary: chariot-like fast, powerful charges in straight lines.

Gilt metal chess set in gold, sterling silver, enamel, amethyst & pearl, made by Viennese artisans of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, circa 1898.

The use of “castle” as the informal name for the rook was an unintended consequence of the operation of phonetic similarity in the sub-set of the population practicing an oral culture.  Apparently in southern Italy, some rural folk interpreted rukh as the Italian rocca (fortress or rock) and this led to a new visual representation: the rook as a castle tower or siege tower, the position in the corner of the board reflecting its defensive strength.  This quickly became the standard shape in European chess pieces and historians of the game have speculated that because carving a plausible “castle turret” from a small base of wood, stone or metal would have been quicker and easier (and this cheaper) than a “chariot”, the economics of production may also have been persuasive.  It was European folk etymology that created “castle” as the alternative and it has survived to become (depending on one’s view), informal, incorrect or old-fashioned and has been cited as a class-identifier (a la Knave vs Jack in playing cards): In Noblesse Oblige: An Enquiry Into the Identifiable Characteristics of the English Aristocracy (1956) Nancy Mitford (1904–1973) didn’t list the chess pieces but had she bothered the rook would have been the “U” word and castle the “non-U”.   Curiously, even among those who insist the piece is a rook, use persists in the move “castling” in which the rook and king can switch positions along the “base-line” (ie rows 1 & 8).  Chess purists insist this is the only permissible use of “castle” but seem resigned to the “mistake’s” regrettable survival.

Carnival

Carnival (pronounced kahr-nuh-vuhl)

(1) A traveling amusement show, having sideshows, rides etc.

(2) Any merrymaking, revelry, or festival, as a program of sports or entertainment.

(3) In the Christian ecclesiastical calendar, the season immediately preceding Lent, often observed with merrymaking; Shrovetide.

(4) A festive occasion or period marked by merrymaking, processions etc and historically much associated with Roman Catholic countries in the period just before Lent.

(5) A sports meeting.

(6) In literary theory (as the noun carnivalization & verb carnivalize), to subvert (orthodox assumptions or literary styles) through humour and chaos.

(7) In sociology, a context in which transgression or inversion of the social order is given temporary license (an extension of the use in literary theory).

(8) Figuratively, a gaudily chaotic situation.

(9) As a modifier (often as “carnival atmosphere?”) a festive atmosphere.

1540–1550: From the Middle French carnaval, from the Italian carnevale, from the Old Italian carnelevare (taking meat away), from older Italian forms such as the Milanese carnelevale or Old Pisan carnelevare (to remove meat (literally “raising flesh”)) the construct built from the Latin caro (flesh (originally “a piece of flesh”)) from the primitive Indo-European root sker- (to cut) + levare (lighten, raise, remove), from the primitive Indo-European root legwh- (not heavy, having little weight).  Etymologists are divided on the original source of the term used by the Church, the alternatives being (1) carnem levare (to put away flesh), (2) carnem levāmen (meat dismissal), (3) carnuālia (meat-based country feast) and (4) carrus nāvālis (boat wagon; float).  What all agree upon is the ecclesiastical use would have come from one of the forms related to “meat” and the folk etymology favors the Medieval Latin carne vale (flesh, farewell!).  Spreading from the use in Christian feast days, by at least the 1590s it was used in the sense of “feasting or revelry in general” while the meaning “a circus or amusement fair” appears to be a 1920s adoption in US English.  The synonyms can include festival, celebration, festivity, fiesta, jubilee, gala, fete, fête, fest, fair, funfair, exhibit, exhibition, revelry, merriment, rejoicing, jamboree, merrymaking, mardi gras, jollity, revel, jollification, exposition and show.  Which is chosen will be dependent on region, context, history etc and (other than in ecclesiastical use) rules mostly don’t exist but there seem to be a convention that a “sporting carnival” is a less formal event (ie non-championship or lower level competitions).  The alternative spelling carnaval is obsolete.  Carnival & carnivalization are nouns, carnivalize, carnivalizing & carnivalized are verbs, and carnivalic, carnivalistic, carnivalesque, carnivallike, precarnival & noncarnival are adjectives; the noun plural is carnivals.

Not just meat: Francis (1936-2025; pope 2013-2025) on fasting for Lent.

Originally, a carnival was a feast observed by Christians before the Lenten fast began and wasn’t a prelude to a sort of proto-veganism.  It was a part of one of religion’s many dietary rules, one which required Christians to abstain from meat during Lent (particularly on Fridays and during certain fast days), carnival the last occasion on which meat was permissible before Easter.  The Christian practice of abstaining from meat evolved as part of a broader theology of penance, self-denial, and imitation of Christ’s suffering, the rationale combining biblical precedent, symbolic associations and early ascetic traditions, the core of the concept Christ’s 40 days of fasting in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1–11, Luke 4:1–13).  Theologically, the argument was that for one’s eternal soul to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, a price to be paid was Imitatio Christi (earthly participation in Christ’s suffering).  Much the early church valued suffering (for the congregants if not the clergy and nobility) and the notion remains an essential theme in some Christian traditions which can be summed up in the helpful advice: “For everything you do, there’s a price to be paid.”

Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) in 2016 on his private jet, fasting for Lent.

By voluntarily abstaining from certain foods, Christians imitated Christ’s self-denial and prepared spiritually for Easter: sharing in His suffering to grow in holiness.  Meat was seen a symbol of feasting and indulgence, an inheritance from Antiquity when “flesh of the beasts of the field” was associated with celebration rather than everyday subsistence, the latter something sustained typically by seafood, fruits and grains so voluntarily (albeit at the behest of the Church) choosing temporarily to renounce meat symbolized forgoing luxury and bodily pleasure, cultivating humility and penitence.  As well as the theological, there was also a quasi-medical aspect to what Tertullian (Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus, circa 155–circa 220) commended as “forsaking worldly indulgence” in that fasting took one’s thoughts away from earthly delights, allowing a focus on “prayer and spiritual discipline”, strengthening the soul against “sinful temptations”.  Another layer was added by the Patristics (from the Latin pater (father)), a school of thought which explored the writings and teachings of the early Church Fathers.  Although it was never a universal view in Patrology, there were those who saw in the eating of meat a connection to animal sacrifice and blood, forbidden in the Old Testament’s dietary laws and later spiritualized in Christianity, thus the idea of abstinence as a distancing from violence and sensuality.  Finally, there was the special significance of Fridays, which, as "Good Friday" reflected the remembrance of the crucifixion of Christ and his death at Calvary (Golgotha); the early Christians treated every Friday as a mini-fast and later this would be institutionalized as Lent.

Lindsay Lohan arriving at the Electric Daisy Carnival (left) and detail of the accessory worn on her right thigh (right), Memorial Coliseum, Los Angeles, June 2010.  The knee-high boots were not only stylish but also served to conceal the court-mandated SCRAM (Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor) bracelet.

The allowance of fish during Lent had both pragmatic and theological origins, its place in the Christian diet a brew of symbolism, biblical precedent and cultural context.  As a legal and linguistic point, in the Greco-Roman scheme of things fish was not thought “flesh meat” which was understood as coming from warm-blooded land animals and birds.  Fish, cold-blooded and aquatic, obviously were different and belonged to a separate category, one which Christianity inherited and an implication of the distinction was seafood being viewed as “everyday food” rather than an indulgent luxury.  This was a thing also of economics (and thus social class), the eating of fish much associated with the poorer coastal dwellers whereas meat was more often seen on urban tables.  Notably, there was also in this a technological imperative: in the pre-refrigeration age, in hot climates, often it wasn’t possible safely to transport seafood inland.  The Biblical symbolism included Christ feeding the multitudes with a few “loaves and fishes” (Matthew 14:13–21), several of the apostles were fishermen who Christ called upon to be “fishers of men” (Mark 1:16–18) and the ichthys (fish symbol) was adopted as early Christian emblem for Christ Himself.  Collectively, this made fish an acceptably modest food for a penitential season.  All that might have been thought justification enough but, typically, Medieval scholars couldn’t resist a bit of gloss and the Italian Dominican friar, philosopher & theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) decided abstinence aimed to “curb the concupiscence of the flesh” and, because meat generated more “bodily heat” and pleasure than fish, it was forbidden while fish was not.  That wasn’t wholly speculative and reflected the humoral theory from Antiquity, still an orthodoxy during the Middle Ages: fish seen as lighter, cooler, and less sensual.

Notting Hill Carnival, London.

Traditionally, there was also a Lenten prohibition of dairy products and eggs, each proscription with its own historical and symbolic logic and the basis of Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day) and Easter eggs (though not the definitely un-Christian Easter bunny).  The strictness derived partly from Jewish precedents notably the vegetarian edict in Daniel 10:2–3 and the idea of a “return to Edenic simplicity” where man would eat only plants (Genesis 1:29) but also an aversion to links with sexuality and fertility, eggs obviously connected with sexual reproduction and dairy with lactation.  What this meant was early Christian asceticism sought to curb bodily impulses and anything connected with fleshly generation and (even if indirectly), thoughts of sex.

Historically, a time of absolution when confessions were made in preparation for Lent, Shrovetide described the three days immediately preceding Lent (Shrove Sunday, Shrove Monday & Shrove Tuesday, preceding Ash Wednesday).  The construct being shrove +‎ -tide, the word was from the late Middle English shroftyde.  Shrove was the simple past of shrive, from the Middle English shryven, shriven & schrifen, from the Old English sċrīfan (to decree, pass judgement, prescribe; (of a priest) to prescribe penance or absolution), from the Proto-West Germanic skrīban, from the late Proto-Germanic skrībaną, a borrowing from the Latin scrībō (write).  The word may be compared with the West Frisian skriuwe (to write), the Low German schrieven (to write), the Dutch schrijven (to write), the German schreiben (to write), the Danish skrive (to write), the Swedish skriva (to write) and the Icelandic skrifa (to write).  The –tide suffix was from the Middle English –tide & -tyde, from the Old English -tīd (in compounds), from tīd (point or portion of time, due time, period, season; feast-day, canonical hour).  Before refrigeration, eggs and dairy naturally accumulated during springtime as hens resumed laying and animals produced more milk.  Being banned during Lent, stocks thus had to be consumed lest they be wasted so a pragmatic way to ensure economy of use was the pancake (made with butter, milk & eggs), served on the feast of Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day).  Following Easter, when eggs returned to the acceptable list, “Easter eggs” were a natural festive marker of the fast’s end.

Carnival Adventure and Carnival Encounter off Australia’s eastern Queensland coast.

Although dubbed “floating Petri dishes” because of the high number of food poisoning & norovirus cases, cruise ships remain popular, largely because, on the basis of cost-breakdown, they offer value-for-money packages few land-based operators can match.  The infections are so numerous because (1) there are thousands of passengers & crew in a closed, crowded environment, (2) an extensive use of buffets and high-volume food service, (3) a frequent turnover of crew & passengers, (4) port visits to places with inconsistent sanitation, health & food safety standards and (5) sometimes delayed reporting and patient isolation.

However, although the popular conception of Medieval Western Christendom is of a dictatorial, priest-ridden culture, the Church was a political structure and it needed to be cognizant of practicalities and public opinion.  Even dictatorships can maintain their authority only with public consent (or at least acquiescence) and in many places the Church recognized burdensome rules could be counter-productive, onerous dietary restrictions resented especially by the majority engaged for their living in hard, manual labor.  Dispensations (formal exceptions) became common with bishops routinely relaxing the rules for the ill, those pregnant or nursing or workers performing physically demanding tasks.  As is a common pattern when rules selectively are eased, a more permissive environment was by the late Middle Ages fairly generalized (other than for those who chose to live by to monastic standards).

Carnival goers enjoying the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras: This is not what Medieval bishops would have associated with the word “carnival” but few events better capture the spirit of the phrase “carnival atmosphere”.

The growth of dispensations (especially in the form of “indulgences” which were a trigger for the Protestant Reformation) was such it occurred to the bishops they’d created a commodity and commodities can be sold.  This happened throughout Europe but, in France and Germany, the “system” became institutionalized, the faithful even able to pay “butter money” for the privilege of eating the stuff over Lent (a kind of inverted “fat tax”!) with the proceeds devoted to that favourite capital works programme of bishops & cardinals: big buildings.  The sixteenth century tower on Normandy’s Rouen Cathedral was nicknamed “Butter Tower” although the funds collected from the “tax” covered only part of the cost; apparently even the French didn’t eat enough butter.  As things turned out, rising prosperity and the population drifts towards towns and cities meant consumption of meat and other animal products increased, making restrictions harder to enforce and the Protestant reformers anyway rejected mandatory fasting rules, damning them as man-made (“Popery!” the most offensive way they could think to express that idea) rather than divine law.  Seeing the writing nailed to the door, one of the results of the Council of Trent (1545–1563) was that while the Church reaffirmed fasting, eggs and dairy mostly were allowed and the ban on meat was restricted to Fridays and certain fast days in the ecclesiastical calendar.

Archbishop Daniel Mannix in his library at Raheen, the Roman Catholic's Church's Episcopal Palace in Melbourne, 1917-1981.

By the twentieth century, it was clear the Holy See was fighting a losing battle and in February 1966, Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) promulgated Apostolic Constitution Paenitemini (best translated as “to be penitent”) making abstinence from meat on Fridays optional outside Lent and retained only Ash Wednesday and Good Friday as obligatory fast days for Catholics.  It was a retreat very much in the corrosive spirit of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965) and an indication the Church was descending to a kind of “mix & match” operation, people able to choose the bits they liked, discarding or ignoring anything tiresome or too onerous.  In truth, plenty of priests had been known on Fridays to sprinkle a few drops of holy water on their steak and declare “In the name of our Lord, you are now fish”.  That was fine for priests but for the faithful, dispensation was often the “luck of clerical draw”.  At a time in the late 1940s when there was a shortage of good quality fish in south-east Australia, Sir Norman Gilroy (1896–1977; Roman Catholic Archbishop of Sydney 1940-1971, appointed cardinal 1946) granted dispensation but the stern Dr Daniel Mannix (1864–1963; Roman Catholic Archbishop of Melbourne 1917-1963) refused so when two politicians from New South Wales (Ben Chifley (1885–1951; prime minister of Australia 1945-1949) and Fred Daly (1912–1995)) arrived in the parliamentary dining room for dinner, Chifley’s order was: “steaks for me and Daly, fish for the Mannix men.”

In the broad, a carnival was an occasion, event or season of revels, merrymaking, feasting and entertainments (the Spanish fiestas a classic example) although they could assume a political dimension, some carnivals staged to be symbolic of the disruption and subversion of authority.  The idea was a “turning upside down of the established hierarchical order” and names used included “the Feast of Fools”, “the Abbot of Misrule” and “the Boy Bishop”.  With a nod to this tradition, in literary theory, the concept of “carnivalization” was introduced by the Russian philosopher & literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin (1895–1975), the word appearing first in the chapter From the Prehistory of Novelistic Discourse (written in 1940) which appeared in his book The Dialogic Imagination: chronotope and heteroglossia (1975).  What carnivalization described was the penetration or incorporation of carnival into everyday life and its “shaping” effect on language and literature.

The Socratic dialogues (most associated with the writing of the Greek philosophers Xenophon (circa 430–355 BC) and Plato (circa 427-348 BC)) are regarded as early examples of a kind of carnivalization in that what appeared to be orthodox “logic” was “stood on its head” and shown to be illogical although Menippean satire (named after the third-century-BC Greek Cynic Menippus) is in the extent of its irreverence closer to the modern understanding which finds expression in personal satire, burlesque and parody.  Bakhtin’s theory suggested the element of carnival in literature is subversive in that it seeks to disrupts authority and introduce alternatives: a deliberate affront to the canonical thoughts of Renaissance culture.  In modern literary use the usual term is “carnivalesque”, referring to that which seeks to subvert (“liberate” sometimes the preferred word) assumptions or orthodoxies by the use of humor or some chaotic element.  This can be on a grand scale (ie an entire cultural movement) or as localized some malcontent disrupting their book club (usually polite affairs where novels are read and ladies sit around talking about their feelings).

Portrait of Leo Tolstoy (1887), oil on canvas by Ilya Repin (1844-1930), Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia.

He expanded on the theme in his book Problems of Dostoevsky's Poetics (1929) by contrasting the novels of Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910) and Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821–1881).  Tolstoy’s fiction he classified as a type of “monologic” in which all is subject to the author's controlling purpose and hand, whereas for Dostoevsky the text is “dialogic” or “polyphonic” with an array of different characters expressing a variety of independent views (not “controlled” the author) in order to represent the author's viewpoint.  Thus deconstructed, Bakhtin defined these views as “not only objects of the author's word, but subjects of their own directly significant word as well” and thus vested with their own dynamic, being a liberating influence which, as it were, “conceptualizes” reality, lending freedom to the individual character and subverting the type of “monologic” discourse characteristic of many nineteenth century authors (typified by Tolstoy).

Portrait of Fedor Dostoyevsky (1872), oil on canvas by Vasily Perov (1834-1882), Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia.

Dostoevsky’s story Bobok (1873) is cited as an exemplar of carnival.  It has characters with unusual freedom to speak because, being dead, they’re wholly disencumbered of natural laws, able to say what they wish and speak truth for fun.  However, Bakhtin did acknowledge this still is literature and didn’t claim a text could be an abstraction uncontrolled by the author (although such things certainly could be emulated): Dostoevsky (his hero) remained in control of his material because the author is the directing agent.  So, given subversion, literary and otherwise, clearly has a history dating back doubtlessly as many millennia as required to find an orthodoxy to subvert, why was the concept of carnivalization deemed a necessary addition to literary theory?  It went to the form of things, carnivalization able especially to subvert because it tended to be presented in ways less obviously threatening than might be typical of polemics or actual violence.