On thursday 18th November 2004 I go to the Carlo Goldoni House in Venice, for a meeting named “The two enemy brothers. Fantasies of approach to the celebrations in the name of Carlo Gozzi and Carlo Goldoni”. I have to admit that what I espected to find was a quite rigid atmosphere, with international scholars more used to be in dusty libraries than on a stage, with a not always much interested public. But as soon as I get there I find a strange atmosphere, an unusual exaltation in the faces of people I warmly greet, of the professors with whom I exchange a word or a smile. I feel, I see that there is something new in the air. Indeed someone from between the speakers lets out accidentally: there are big news, be present tomorrow. Friday 19th november 2004. All right, let’s see what it is, I go back to the meeting, I want to discover if those news really exist. They talk about the new book edited by Fabio Soldini, The letters of Carlo Gozzi published by Marsilio: a publishing news, I agree about that, but it is not enough to create all this expectation, there must be something else. After a brief presentation, the word goes to the editor of the book in question, Fabio Soldini, one of the maximum field experts and teacher in the schools of Lugano. In his speech, he talks about the epistolary style of Carlo Gozzi, and he specifies, defines precisely and goes deeper into the subject. It is interesting, but he does not say anything about the big news. His speech comes to an end, but then someone looks at him winking, smiles and invites him to finally tell everything. Here we are. He tells what happened to him that day, and while he is speaking you can imagine everything: you are there, at a meeting in Pordenone, obviously talking about Gozzi, as you did many times. It begins and it finally ends, leaving you with a bit of satisfaction but also with a bitter taste in your mouth. Then a woman comes near you, saying that she is the last heir of the Gozzi family. You smile warmly, she invites you to have lunch at the family’s villa, you do not feel like going but manage to give a positive answer, she insists and arranges a date: here you are, you are trapped. So you go to the lunch. The conversation is pleasant, for sure, with all the family’s anecdotes, but as a matter of fact you are not a jolly fellow, you are a bashful guy, a bookworm, also when you face all the world’s friendliness. Then you try to ask if inside the villa there is a library. But the subject is too different and the question remains unanswered. Time goes by, but you have a fixed idea: the library. At one moment you try again, by now hours have passed. This time they listen to you, and they reply with indifference, af if it is a detail for them. You ask if you may have a look at it. Finally, they are listening. The library is a huge elliptic hall. You imagine a great writer as a big body, and now you are exactly inside the whale’s belly, you can see what it has eaten and, if you pay attention, you can understand how it has grown, how it has formed itself. There are books everywhere, of the 18th , 17th, 16th century. You look, search, observe greedily, and suddenly you think: what if there were some unpublished manuscripts, possibly unknown? But no, all the critics say that the manuscripts have been lost during the First World War, and if something had not been lost, then the Germans would have taken it, in the period they had been there. You look and observe greedily. Suddenly you think: what if there are some unpublished and maybe unknown manuscripts? But no, too many famous critics say that: the manuscripts have been lost during the First World War, and even if something had been left, then the Germans would have taken it when they were there. There cannot be anything.but you look carefully, anyway: who knows, maybe there is a piece of paper inside a book, a sketchpad handwritten by Carlo Gozzi or at least by his brother Gasparo.

Then you see a box, over there at the bottom, in a forgotten corner. You catch a glimpse of it, then you look better. It looks lice the treasurebox seen in many films, and you think bitterly: what kind of treasure could ever be in there? But you liked pirates’stories when you were a child, so you lice to play until the end. You ask if you can open the box. The say yes, amazed for all that interest in that old and dusty stuff. You take off the string and open it. Paper. Waste paper? No, they are sheets. Well-written, tidy. And the handwriting? In some it is of Gasparo Gozzi, in others it is Carlo’s. Carlo? Hadn’t everything been lost during the War? You cannot believe it. They probably are bills, unimportant things. You look at them carefully. They are literary writings. Then you look, open other boxes, move around. At the end you make a calculation. You have found thousands of poems, tales’autographs, letters, translations, drawings of the Useless Memories, unpublished and unknown comedies. A measureless fortune, up to now buried, unknown. Given for lost. A fortune that could make of Carlo Gozzi an author much more important than today. At least, something different.

What is important now, is to bring those papers in the right place, and most of all to bring them back to Venice. Nowadays they are in the Marcian Library, which bought them thanks to the help of the Commission for purchases in antique trade of the Ministry for Cultural goods and activities. But they will need quite a lot of time to catalog the material, to handle it with care, study it, bring it to light and make it known to the public. In order to do that, a scholars team has already been formed, but it will be difficult to find more money. Anyway, the work has begun. Friday, 19th november 2004. It was worth coming back. Today, Venice is a bit bigger, it keeps another treasure.