Chiefly it surpasses them in the glory of that stupendous _retablo_
which fills one whole end of the vast fane, and mounting from floor to
roof, tells the Christian story with an ineffable fullness of dramatic
detail, up to the tragic climax of the crucifixion, the _Calvario,_ at
the summit. Every fact of it fixes itself the more ineffaceably in the
consciousness because of that cunningly studied increase in the stature
of the actors, who always appear life-size in spite of their lift from
level to level above the spectator. But what is the use, what _is_ the
use? Am I to abandon the young and younger wisdom with which I have
refrained in so many books from attempting the portrayal of any Italian,
any English church, and fall into the folly, now that I am old, of
trying to say again in words what one of the greatest of Spanish
churches says in form, in color? Let me rather turn from that vainest
endeavor to the trivialities of sight-seeing which endear the memory of
monuments and make the experience of them endurable. The beautiful
choir, with its walls pierced in gigantic filigree, might have been art
or not, as one chose, but the three young girls who smiled and whispered
with the young man near it were nature, which there could be no two
minds about.
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