La Alhambra Palais
Were the Spanish royalty so jealous they couldn’t leave well enough alone?
There are few absolutes in the field of architecture — I surely have missed plenty — but the Alhambra, even in its ruined state, belongs among the rarest of artisan creations. The sultans of Granada lived among its rooms and gardens, though they did but oversee its creation. One can credit their taste while raising a toast to the artists.
Edo-period architecture in Japan perhaps could stand in comparison, though whereas Japanese artisans worked their Zen minimalism in wood, the Moors applied plaster to stone like frozen embroidery and introduced Spanish culture to the courtyard residences that ultimately were carried to the Americas.
Today’s tourists gape at the Alhambra’s exotic, even otherworldly beauty, though in its day the strategic location was more crucial than the fortress’s courtyards and gardens. Its very name in translation, the Red Fort [1] makes that clear. Though the Alhambra’s artisans who created those fantastical spaces, the gardeners who tended the lushness, the poets and dreamers, those who dwelt there, what more glory did they require? And once the Moors were driven from Granada, did no one remain to cherish what they had created?
Two 19th century architects, in particular, a Brit and a Frenchman fell in love with the Alhambra. The Brit was well enough known in his time, though they’ve both been relegated to a side note today.
“TO THE MEMORY OF JULES GOURY, ARCHITECT, WHO DIED OF CHOLERA, AT GRANADA, AUGUST XXYIII. MDCCCXXXIV. WHILST ENGAGED IN PREPARING THE ORIGINAL DRAWINGS, THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED, BY HIS FRIEND, OWEN JONES. Dedication from La Alhambra Palais by Jules Goury and Owen Jones
Two architects from different countries, and no tale to tell us how they met, nor nothing about how they might have collaborated. Jones went on to a full career—including work on the Crystal Palace and and his Grammar of Ornament, an intense pattern study drawn from the world’s cultures. Goury died at 31 — otherwise what more beauty might he have created? All that’s left of their six month association is that dedication Jones insisted be printed. And their renderings, to be sure.
With the leveling of life in the 21st century, our paved highways and highrise cities — all the ways we’ve carved country into measured plots, failing to fully repair what war and entropy has wreaked, discarding more than we can remember, it’s hard to imagine the origins of a place.
However, in 8th century Spain the Islamic tribes of North Africa (Moors) were seeking to back themselves up against a mountain, so what they needed to defend was only what lay in front of them. And what lay in front were fertile plains in a semi-tropical climate — plains which have become the greater part of present day Granada. It was far more obvious to Jules Goury and Owen Jones when they visited.
“The city of Granada, the last bulwark of the Mohammedan power in Spain, is situated at the extremity of an extensive and highly cultivated plain, bounded to the north-east by the snow-clad mountains of the Sierra Nevada. It stands on four hills, rising to the height of upwards of three thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is intersected by a considerable stream, called by the Moors, Hadâroh (now Darro), which, after emptying its waters into the Xenil, close to the outskirts, becomes eventually the amplest tributary to the Guadalquivir.” From La Alhambra Palais by Jules Goury and Owen Jones, 1842
Spain’s history after the Romans was a tangle of warring tribes and cultures, leading to a lengthy rule by Visigoth kings. The Muslim conquest over the Visigoths rule began in 711 CE (current era). The Nasrids were relative latecomers in the 13th century— they also were the last Islamic dynasty to survive in Spain. The Nasrids oversaw the expansion of the original ‘Red Fort’ into the Alhambra palaces and gardens.
There is little to tell what laid beyond these red brick walls. The recorded history places the beginnings of the fortress in 1020 CE. It supplanted Elvira, a settlement dating from Roman times.
La Alhambra Palais continues:
“We find that about the year 150 of the Hijra (A.D. 767), a governor of Elvira, named Ased Ibn ‘Abdi-r-rahrnan Ash-sheybani, strengthened the fortifications of Granada, and built there a castle. We next hear of Granada during the civil wars between the Arabian tribes, which had settled in the province of Elvira, and the Muladun, or people of mixed blood, who contended for the empire. These latter, having gained possession of the capital, Elvira, made great slaughter among their enemies, and obliged them to take refuge in the neighbouring fortress of Granada, which they besieged. An Arabian writer has preserved us two verses, composed on this occasion by a bard of the besieging tribes, and which were shot over the walls by means of an arrow. As they contain an allusion to a castle already called KaVat Al-hamrâ (the red castle), probably the same built by the above Governor of Elvira, we shall translate them here:
‘Deserted and roofless are the houses of our enemies; invaded by the autumnal rains, traversed by tempestuous winds.
‘Let them within the red castle hold their mischievous councils; perdition and woe surround them on every side.’ “ From La Alhambra Palais by Jules Goury and Owen Jones, 1842
What those immigrants from the North African desert understood about climate and the need for clear flowing water, we in the 21st century believe are no more than we deserve, though Deer Spring water trucks didn’t deliver in medieval times.
Spring-fed water from the Sierra Nevada mountains was gifted by a higher power the Moors never forgot to memorialize.
[To explain the plan, the north arrow in the upper left told me to rotate the plan to orient myself.]
I studied this site plan repeatedly, searching for the Generalife. It was missing from Jones and Goury’s site plan, an odd omission, given its prominence lying to the northeast across the deep ravine, like a sanctuary from the main fortress complex. Had Jones and Goury not found it too ruined to study? Their studies in the mid 1800s came centuries after the Moors had been driven from their home.
“Ibn Khaldun argues that each dynasty has within itself the seeds of its own downfall. He explains that ruling houses tend to emerge on the peripheries of great empires and use the unity presented by those areas to their advantage in order to bring about a change in leadership. As the new rulers establish themselves at the center of their empire, they become increasingly lax and more concerned with maintaining their lifestyles. Thus, a new dynasty can emerge at the periphery of their control and effect a change in leadership, beginning the cycle anew.” From Wikipedia article on Ibn Khaldūn’s Muqaddimah
Ibn Khaldun lived in the Alhambra for a time, until he thought the better part of valor was to depart before Muhammad V’s vizier, not taking kindly to his competition, ordered his assassination. No one remembers the vizier, whereas Ibn Khaldun is celebrated yet today.
Likewise, few today remember Boabdil, the last Sultan of Granada.
In 1492, Boabdil, the twenty-third sultan of Granada, surrendered the Alhambra to Ferdinand and Isabella rather than let it be destroyed in a siege. Dehodencq’s painting is figurative, yet tells a true story. One can barely see his dark brother holding him from turning back.
In that same year, Columbus was given his sailing orders from Ferdinand and Isabella in Alhambra, another event in the world which overshadowed Boabdil’s exile.
The Spanish royals took eager possession of the last crowning jewel of Moorish architecture they hadn’t yet appropriated. Their grandson Charles V built himself a graceless pile, destroying an entire portion of the Alhambra with no effort to tell the world he was important. It is, in kindest terms, an unforgivable arrogance he never saw to completion.
Once Charles’s further descendants grew bored with their prize, what followed was a sad decline with destructive spasms, centuries worth.
Visiting the Alhambra in 2023, what I saw were the random gardens and walls, beautiful ruins that they are. The hike down one side of the ravine and then climbing the opposite side made me realize how much distance separated the Generalife from the main palaces.
When The Alhambra was in ruins
Entropy wounds the world’s wonders. Human history has vigorously destroyed what natural disasters hadn’t yet gotten to. Reading, for example, the Ottomans stored enough gunpowder in the Acropolis that the Greek cannon fire blew the guts of that iconic place.
Entropy also works its will, though men continue to inflict an inordinate majority. Ask anyone living in Ukraine.
The rendering is of ruins set forward from the ruined Alhambra in the distance.
“In the famous Tower of the Seven Floors, a very popular tavern was opened there years later, as well as a hotel, that remained open until 1936.
“Girault de Prangey, who illustrated one of the first books on the Alhambra in 1832, wrote: ‘Of all its glories, of all its wonders, the Alhambra keeps only what neither time nor men have been able to take out from it, and they are its sky and the scented mists of its mountains; but its palaces of gold and azure, its mosques of radiant domes, its minarets, and even its gardens, everything has disappeared. Two or three convents, some miserable families settled among its ruins, old disabled people who starve to death, these are now the heirs to the kings’ ”. from When the Alhambra Was in Ruins published in El Legado Andalusa
The Justice Tower (with said door) today is near to the public entrance into the Alhambra complex.
The location of Tower of Seven Floors remains a mystery — somewhere off in the vicinity of the Carmen de los Martires within hiking distance, judging from the painting.
Vizcaya’s smaller garden in Coconut Grove bear a resemblance to these sprawling, mostly vacant gardens overlooking the Alhambra.
“The Alhambra has known many disrespectful guests. The first and best known were the French [under Napoléon]. After invading Spain, they kept up their devastating practices. In the case of the Alhambra, rather than plundering it, they mistreated it [to overlook Charles V’s ruinous palace]. The Court of Myrtles became a projectiles depot; in the Court of the Lions, the flooring was pulled up to plant a garden of roses, jasmine and myrtle instead, in the French style so in vogue at the time. The rich coffered ceilings, doors and vestibule of the Tower of the Captive went missing. Plundering continued until 1812, when, as luck would have it, the Alhambra was evacuated. Yet French soldiers left mines all over as a reminder, and eight towers of the ensemble were blown up. Thanks to the already famous cabo de inválidos (disabled sergeant) José García, who is remembered in a memorial plaque at the Square of Cisterns, this barbaric act was brought to a stop, yet many of the towers never recovered their original features. The Tower of the Seven Floors, for instance, an imposing gateway, would remain mutilated evermore.” from When The Alhambra was in ruins published in El Legado Andalusa
The Partal Palace
Partal Palace — from the Old Castilian — means ‘portico’. The name is apt, as the rest of the palace remains in question, and even this portion has been highly replaced. It is said to be the oldest of the Nasrid palaces in Alhambra.
“The [Partal] palace is only partly preserved, with only the tower and portico on its north side remaining. According to some scholarly views, this was originally part of an enclosed rectangular courtyard rather than the open garden it appears as today.” From Wikipedia Partal Palace page
The Partal Palace is a particular case of seeing only what remains. Close by the Palace of the Lions, only the ruined portico with its Tower of the Ladies remains, framed by reconstructed pool and garden. By the 19th century, it had become no better than a watering hole and squatters’ quarters. Yet even in its ruined state, this had a charm.
The photo taken sixteen years later shows the chimney missing and the addition of two dormers — and the pool has appeared, leaving questions about Frederick Lewis’s accuracy. Though in both cases the infilled portico and the ruined facade are quite noticeble.
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With only four hours to see the whole of the Alhambra, we passed this palace by — maybe next time, I’ll get closer.
Mexuar
The Mexuar (Place of Counsil) is believed to be the reception room visitors to the Sultan entered before coming to the Comeres Palace. The mostly reconstructed space seems an awkward re-creation done Spanish hacienda style, but the column capitols somehow survived the later interventions. We were shuffling tourist style, and this wasn’t what I wanted to see.
The hulking pile to the right in the photo is Charles V’s ill-conceived contribution — not anywhere close to the scale of the Alhambra. What the horde might think today, hurrying past Charles V’s hulk displaced from Florance in the Renaissance, the tour guides can’t explain.
In Goury and Jones’s plan, the Mexual reception spaces are to the left, the Comeres Palace and Court of the Myrtles immediately to the right of the Mexual, and the Palace of the Lions at the far right. The thick gray line cutting across the bottom of the Comeres Palace depicts Charles V’s later intrusion, suggesting what he had obliterated.
Comeres Palace
Goury and Jones spent untold time documenting the exquisite details of the palaces. Wherever they had been trained — in Goury’s case perhaps the École des Beaux-Art?— they had learned their skills. The story of their fascination with the Alhambra is evident from all that they drew.
“The walls of the fortress are studded with towers; those on the south, towards the plain, were used for defence, whilst on the northern wall, protected by nature, they formed the charming habitations of the Sultan and his Hareem. The most prominent is the Tower of Comares, within which is the celebrated Hall of the Ambassadors. The severe but picturesque exterior of these towers, gives no indication of the art and luxury within: they were formed without, like the palaces of the ancient Egyptians, to impress the beholder with respect for the power and majesty of the king; whilst within, the fragrant flowers and running streams, the porcelain mosaics and gilded stucco work, were constantly made to remind the owner, how all that ministered to his happiness was the gift of God. The architecture of the Arabs is essentially religious — the offspring of the Koran, as Gothic architecture of the Bible. The prohibition to represent animal life, caused them to seek for other means of decoration, — inscriptions from the Koran, interwoven with geometrical ornaments and flowers, not drawn decidedly from nature, but translated through the loom; for it would seem that the Arabs, in changing their wandering for a settled life, — in striking the tent to plant it in a form more solid, had transferred the luxurious shawls and hangings of [cashmere], which had adorned their former dwellings, to their new, — changing the tent-pole for a marble column, and the silken tissue for gilded plaster.” Emphasis added — from La Alhambra Palais by Jules Goury and Owen Jones
“That portion of the fortress of the Alhambra which is now called the Casa Real, or Royal House, appears to be but a very small portion of the ancient palace of the Moorish Kings of Granada, which doubtless spread itself over the whole of this part of the fortress. It is to be regretted that no traces exist at the present day by which any restoration of the building can be made, or its limits defined; but we may judge, from the gallery of two stories at the south end of the Court of the Fish-pond [Court of the Myrtles], which still remains, that the part of the Moorish building destroyed to make way for the Palace of Charles the Fifth, must have been of considerable importance. From a comparison of this edifice with other residences of Eastern potentates, such as the seraglios of Constantinople [Istanbul] or Adrianople (Edirne) we feel convinced that very much is wanting to render this building as perfect in size and grandeur, as that portion of it which remains is in detail: we find no traces of the numerous apartments which must have been required by the guards and attendants ; and a most important feature, the Hareem, is entirely wanting. This, it is probable, extended, in the direction of the Court of the Lions, to the Casa de Sanchez and Torre de las Infantas; in both of which are the remains of small and beautiful apartments, which seem to have been destined for the reception of the Moorish Sultanas. The present entrance into the Casa Real is by a small door at the south-west corner of the Court of the Fish-pond, adjoining the Palace of Charles the Fifth; and we enter at once from the Plaza de los Algibes into this enchanted palace.” Emphasis added — from La Alhambra Palais by Jules Goury and Owen Jones
Do we only love what we know or what lies in the past? I took multiple shots from every angle I could find, mostly of a restoration.
The story of herders leading their flocks to drink? Did the simple beasts — men and animal — know from whence they drank and enjoyed that small shade? They meant no harm except to live their lives.
One might ask, why the Moors didn’t cherish this place sufficient to better protect it? The plain answer is the Spanish royalty drove them from the country, then chose to abandon a work of centuries. Napoleon’s invasion destroyed still more of what remained.
Comeres Palace Interiors
What might a visitor to the Sultan of Granada have thought coming into a space this ornate?
We moderns don’t particularly care what’s overhead, judging from how we build. What the Moors must have considered a poor substitute for the sky tells a different story. The present translation for this hall says ‘Sala de la Barca,’ or hall of the boat, which is an inept translation: the Arabic word baraka means ‘blessing’ No boats involved.
Palace of the Lions
The names given these spaces bear no semblance to what they might have been called when the Nasrid’s dwelt in the Alhambra. In most cases they are only present-day references.
The so-called Hall of Two Sisters (Salón de las Dos Hermanas) has no clear reference. Yet it hardly matters, standing before the window to study the tile work, the patterned wall and the garden beyond.
Flowing water from the twelve lion sculptures supporting the carved marble basin, the four water channels creasing the pavement into quadrants, the delicate columns with slightly exaggerated arches, this space holds a spiritualness that is hard to define — the incorporeal nature of great art.
Without question, The Court of the Lions is the most celebrated of the Alhambra palace courtyards. Though would the Sultan ever tire of this view, the gardens just outside were his to wander.
Generalife
At one point the Sultan — or more likely his better half — looked across the deep ravine to the rise on the other side and thought it a better place come the heat of summer.
There is a strong correlation between the Generalife and the Partal Palace — the former recreating the later? My first impression was a long time lapse between the two, but if so, the love of courtyards, gardens and ornament had not been forgotten.
Author’s Note
The Alhambra has been an interest since my first post-graduate project in Miami. I was searching for something appropriately ‘Spanish’ for the walls of a new tennis pavilion to match a white elephant called the Miami Biltmore Hotel.
Given that Florida was originally a Spanish colony, when South Florida was developed in the ’20s, the flavor of the old country was favored. So I was looking for wall tiles to match the pseudo-Spanish hotel from Flagler days in the 20s, that had been empty and abandoned since World War II. You couldn’t miss it in Coral Gables. Still can’t. hi
Not too hard to find it today, though I wonder whether the tower ‘library’ room Al Capone used to visit during Prohibition is still open to the public.
The ‘alhambra tiles’ I found in a Sweets catalogue looked to be accurate—one of the twelve or more catalogues every respectable architectural firm kept in their library until the Internet put them out of business. Those hefty green cardboard-bound volumes held everything a man (note the sex) might specify for his (ibid) next glory to God and his future millionaire offspring whacking at golf balls. There they were: alhambra tile!
Accompanying the ad was an old black and white photo of a place perched on a cliff that appealed to me.
Dr. Cooledge had implanted the seed with two years of architectural history, his primary theme being how architecture was a primary mark of history. Though he’d not lectured about the Alhambra. I did that research on my own.
D and I were fortunate to visit the Alhambra in the late summer of 2023. I published Hordes in the Garden in November 2023 proudly accompanied by a dozen or more photographs. While researching, I came on Goury and Jones’s La Alhambra Palais. It was published by subscription — paid in advance by a lengthy list of subscribers including the kings of Prussia and France, along with other nobles and commoners. I found a first edition of the large plates offered for a mere $24,000.
I always meant to write about La Alhambra Palais by Goury and Jones. The renderings found in their book deserve to be remembered. And I still mean to return the place itself again. There is a parador on the grounds where one can book a stay, and wander the gardens when dusk falls — that would be dreamlike.
