You’ve probably heard of the Magna Carta. That 1215 document from England usually gets all the credit for "inventing" democracy and checking the power of kings. But honestly? England was late to the party. About 27 years before King John was forced to sign anything at Runnymede, a messy, stubborn, and frequently excommunicated king in Spain had already done it.
His name was Alfonso IX of Leon.
He wasn’t some saintly figure or a visionary democrat in the modern sense. Far from it. He was a guy born into a political nightmare who needed cash to fight his cousins. But in the process of trying to save his skin, he accidentally changed how the Western world functions.
The 1188 Cortes of Leon: The First Real Parliament
Most history books skip over 1188. That’s a mistake. When Alfonso IX took the throne at age 17, his kingdom of Leon was basically being squeezed from all sides. To the east, his cousin Alfonso VIII of Castile was eyeing his land. To the south, the Almohad Caliphate was a constant threat.
He was broke.
Usually, a medieval king would just squeeze the nobles and the church for money. But Alfonso did something radical. He called a meeting at the Basilica of San Isidoro. He didn’t just invite the usual suspects—the bishops and the counts. He invited the "citizens" (the boni homines or good men) from the towns.
📖 Related: The Betta Fish in Vase with Plant Setup: Why Your Fish Is Probably Miserable
This was the first time in European history that representatives of the common people—the middle class—had a seat at the table with the king. This gathering became known as the Cortes of Leon. UNESCO actually recognizes the Decreta of 1188 as the "oldest documentary manifestation of the European parliamentary system."
The trade-off was simple: Alfonso got his taxes, and the people got rights. He promised he wouldn't make war or peace without consulting the assembly. He even guaranteed the "inviolability of the home"—basically a 12th-century version of requiring a search warrant.
Why They Called Him "The Slobberer"
History isn't always kind. Alfonso IX had a nickname that definitely wouldn't fly on a modern campaign poster: El Baboso, or "The Slobberer."
According to the historian Ibn Khaldun, Alfonso would literally foam at the mouth when he got angry. And he was angry a lot. He spent a huge chunk of his reign fighting his own family. It’s hard to keep track of the drama, but basically, the Christian kings in Spain at the time (Leon, Castile, Portugal, Aragon) spent as much time stabbing each other in the back as they did fighting the Reconquista.
Actually, he was so petty about his land disputes with Castile that he skipped the most famous battle of the era. When most of Christian Spain teamed up at the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212 to crush the Almohads, Alfonso IX stayed home. He refused to help because the King of Castile wouldn’t give him back a few border towns.
👉 See also: Why the Siege of Vienna 1683 Still Echoes in European History Today
Talk about a grudge.
Excommunication and Forbidden Love
If the parliamentary stuff doesn't sell you on his life being a movie, his love life will. Alfonso had a habit of marrying his cousins, which the Pope absolutely hated.
- Teresa of Portugal: His first wife. They had three kids. The Pope said "No" because they were first cousins. Marriage annulled.
- Berengaria of Castile: His second wife (and the daughter of his rival cousin). They had five kids, including the future King Ferdinand III. The Pope said "Double No."
Pope Celestine III and later Pope Innocent III were obsessed with breaking them up. Alfonso was excommunicated. His entire kingdom was placed under an "interdict," meaning priests weren't supposed to perform weddings or burials.
Alfonso basically shrugged it off. He stayed with Berengaria for seven years until the political pressure became too much. When they finally split in 1204, Berengaria went back to Castile, and the kids were eventually declared legitimate. It’s a sad story, really—Berengaria was clearly a brilliant political mind, and their separation was more about Papal power plays than actual morality.
The University of Salamanca: A Legacy in Stone
Beyond the politics and the foam, Alfonso IX left one massive mark on the world that you can still visit today. In 1218, he founded the University of Salamanca.
✨ Don't miss: Why the Blue Jordan 13 Retro Still Dominates the Streets
He wanted a place where his subjects could study without having to go to Castile. Today, it’s one of the oldest universities in the world. If you go there, you’ll see the famous "frog on the skull" carved into the facade. Legend says if a student finds the frog, they’ll pass their exams. Alfonso probably would have just yelled at the skull until it gave him what he wanted, but the school remains a testament to his desire to make Leon a cultural powerhouse.
What You Can Learn From This Messy King
Alfonso IX died in 1230 while on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. He was a man of contradictions: a pioneer of democracy who was also a stubborn autocrat; a founder of universities who was often blinded by petty feuds.
Here is how you can actually apply the "Alfonso Method" to your life (the good parts, at least):
- Bring more chairs to the table. Alfonso succeeded because he realized that giving more people a voice (the townspeople) gave him more resources. If you're stuck on a project, stop asking the same three people for advice.
- Institutionalize your wins. He didn't just make promises; he wrote the Decreta. If you want a change to last—whether in a business or a habit—you have to write down the rules.
- Don't let the "Popes" of your industry bully you. Alfonso was excommunicated multiple times and just kept going. Sometimes the "official" way of doing things is just someone else's power trip.
- Education is the ultimate flex. Building a university was the best thing he ever did. Knowledge lasts longer than borders.
If you're ever in Spain, skip the crowded tourist traps in Madrid for a day and go to Leon. Stand in the cloisters of San Isidoro. It’s quiet there now, but that’s where the voice of the common person first started to matter in European law.
To dig deeper, you might want to look into the UNESCO Memory of the World register, which details the specific 1188 decrees. Or, if you're into the drama, check out the life of Berengaria of Castile—she’s arguably the real hero of the story who managed to unite Leon and Castile after Alfonso’s death.