analytical questions, to be answered unbiassed by hearsay evidence.  Concerning the dramatic works:  Is the leading idea conspicuously brought forward throughout each work?  Is the language of the several speakers such as does not create any impression other than that warranted by the subject matter of each?  If so, does it create the impression apparently intended?  Is the character of speech varied according to that of the speaker?  Are the passages of description and abstract reflection so introduced as to add to poetic, without detracting from dramatic, excellence?  About the narrative poems, and those of a more occasional and personal quality the same questions may be asked with some obvious adaptation; and this about all:—­Are the versification strong, the sound sharp or soft, monotonous, hurried, in proportion to the requirement of sense; the illustrative thoughts apt and new; the humour quaint and relishing?  Finally, is not in many cases that which is spoken of as something extraneous, dragged in aforethought, for the purpose of singularity, the result more truly of a most earnest and single-minded labor after the utmost rendering of idiomatic conversational truth; the rejection of all stop-gap words; about the most literal transcript of fact compatible with the ends of poetry and true feeling for Art?  This a point worthy note, and not capable of contradiction.{14}

{14} We may instance several scenes of “Pippa Passes,”—­the concluding one especially, where Pippa reviews her day; the whole of the “Soul’s Tragedy,”—­the poetic as well as the prose portion; “The Flight of the Duchess;” “Waring,” &c.; and passages continually recurring in “Sordello,” and in “Colombe’s Birthday.”

These questions answered categorically will, we believe, be found to establish the assurance that Browning’s style is copious, and certainly not other than appropriate,—­instance contrasted with instance—­as the form of expression bestowed on the several phases of a certain ever-present form of thought.  We have already endeavored to show that, where style is not inadequate, its object as a means being attained, the mind must revert to its decision as to relative and collective value of intention:  and we will again leave Browning’s manifestations of intellectual purpose, as such, for the verdict of his readers.

To those who yet insist:  “Why cannot I read Sordello?” we can only answer:—­Admitted a leading idea, not only metaphysical but subtle and complicated to the highest degree; how work out this idea, unless through the finest intricacy of shades of mental development?  Admitted a philosophic comprehensiveness of historical estimate and a minuteness of familiarity with details, with the added assumption, besides, of speaking with the very voice of the times; how present this position, unless by standing at an eminent point, and addressing thence a not unprepared audience?  Admitted an intense aching concentration of thought; how be self-consistent, unless uttering words condensed to the limits of language?—­And let us at last say:  Read Sordello again.  Why hold firm that you ought to be able at once to know Browning’s stops, and to pluck out the heart of his mystery?  Surely, if you do not understand him, the fact tells two ways.  But, if you will understand him, you shall.