It was a family of aristocrats like so many others: the mother, a marchioness and the father a Count; but, the mother was the severe religious training and manic greed, to the point that she said she was happy to lose a child so as not to have to feed a new mouth.
The father, lover of culture, to help his wife and compensate his tactics, to use all the money that came to him, to buy books; in that way, to have one of the most powerful private libraries of its time.
In that home, ultra conservative, ultra-religious, authoritarian and traumatizing, grew up a boy named Giacomo Leopardi.
Luckily, that child has been the best physical and spiritual place of his mansion, the library of his father and the place has been dedicated to childhood.
You had your intelligence and sensitivity, so many hours devoted to the world of books, that at age 17 he mastered six languages and it was a book in classical documents in their respective languages.
Giacomo Leopardi was considered a poet of pessimism and pain due to his physical condition and his frustrations; but that all forms, the greatest lyric poet of Italy of his time, who wrote this verse:
