specimen of their highest architectural skill, destructions,
mutilations, and restorations have wrought so much damage to it that
it now stands, indeed, "as a tree in autumn." It was not those
who conquered the Moors on whom mercy was implored by the writer
quoted--for they, Ferdinand and Isabella, did their best to preserve
their trophy--but on such of their successors as Charles V., who
actually planted a still unfinished palace right among the buildings
of this venerable spot, adjoining the remains of the Alhambra, part of
which it has doubtless replaced.

This unartistic Austrian styled these remains "the ugly abominations
of the Moors," and forthwith proceeded to erect really ugly
structures. But the most unpardonable destroyers of all that the Moors
left beautiful were, perhaps, the French, who in 1810 entered Granada
with hardly a blow, and under Sebastian practically desolated the
palace. They turned it into barracks and storehouses, as inscriptions
on its walls still testify--notably on the sills of the "Miranda de
la Reina." Ere they left in 1812, they even went so far as to blow
up eight of the towers, the remainder only escaping through the
negligence of an employee, and the fuses were put out by an old
Spanish soldier.

The Spaniards having thus regained possession, the commissioners
appointed to look after it "sold everything for themselves, and then,
like good patriots, reported that the invaders had left nothing."
After a brief respite in the care of an old woman, who exhibited more
sense in the matter than all the generals who had perpetrated such
outrages upon it, the Alhambra was again desecrated by a new Governor,
who used it as a store of salt fish for the galley slaves.

While the old woman--Washington Irving's "Tia Antonia"--was in
possession, that famous writer did more than any one to restore the
ancient fame of the palace by coming to stay there, and writing
his well-known account of his visit. Mr. Forde, and his friend Mr.
Addington, the British Ambassador, helped to remind people of its
existence, and saved what was left. Subsequent civil wars have,
however, afforded fresh opportunities of injury to its hoary walls,
and to-day it stands a mere wreck of what it once was.

The name by which these buildings are now known is but the adjective
by which the Arabs described it, "El Hamra," meaning "The Red,"
because of its colour outside. When occupied it was known only as
either "The Palace of