Childhood
Charles was born in Naples, southern Italy, the only son of Charles Martel, Prince of Salerno and his wife Clementia, a daughter of King Rudolph I of Germany. His paternal grandmother, Mary, a daughter of King Stephen V of Hungary, declared her claim to Hungary following the death of her brother, King Ladislaus IV of Hungary, but the majority of the country accepted the rule of her distant cousin, King Andrew III. Nevertheless, Mary transferred her claim to Hungary to her eldest son, Charles Martel on 6 January 1292, who was also the heir to the Kingdom of Naples, but he was never able to enforce his claim against King Andrew III and died on 19 August 1295.
After his father's death, the child Charles inherited the claim to Hungary, but his grandfather, King Charles II of Naples appointed his younger son (Charles' paternal uncle), Robert to his heir in the Kingdom of Naples on 13 February 1296. This decree was confirmed by Pope Boniface VIII, the feudal overlord of the Kingdom of Naples, on 27 February 1297, so Charles lost his claim to the Neapolitan throne.
Read more about this topic: Charles I Of Hungary
Famous quotes containing the word childhood:
“Oh! mystery of man, from what a depth
Proceed thy honours. I am lost, but see
In simple childhood something of the base
On which thy greatness stands; but this I feel,
That from thyself it comes, that thou must give,
Else never canst receive. The days gone by
Return upon me almost from the dawn
Of life: the hiding-places of man’s power
Open; I would approach them, but they close.”
—William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
“What sacred instinct did inspire
My soul in childhood with a hope so strong?”
—Thomas Traherne (1636–1674)
“Indeed, my mother’s beautiful face still shone with youthfulness that night when she so softly held my hands and sought to stop my tears; but, precisely, it seemed to me that this should not have happened, her anger would have saddened me less than this new sweetness that my childhood had never known; it seemed to me that, with a hidden and impious hand, I had just traced the first wrinkle and made appear the first grey hair in her soul.”
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)