The people in his dramatic monologues live before us by means of a psychology as impressionistic as that of Ibsen's in his plays. The effect is the same as that in a really great impressionistic painting. Nature is revealed far more distinctly--the thing of lights and shadows, space and movement--than in pictures bent upon endless details of form. "My Last Duchess" is one among many fine examples of his method in monologue. In that short poem we are made to see what manner of man is the duke, what manner of woman the duchess. We see what has been the duke's past, what is to be his future, also the present scene, as the duke stands in the hall of his palace talking to an ambassador from the count who has come to arrange a marriage with the duke for the count's daughter. Besides all this a glimpse of the ambassador's attitude of mind is given. This is done by an absolutely telling choice of words and by an organic relationing of the different elements. The law of his genius asserts itself. Browning's own ideal of the poet who makes others see was not completely realized until he had perfected a form which would lend itself most perfectly to the manner of thing which he desired to make others see--namely, the human soul in all its possible manifestations of feeling and mood, good, bad, and indifferent, from the uninspired organist who struggles with a mountainous fugue to the inspired improvisor whose soul ascends to God on the wings of his music, from the unknown sensitive painter who cannot bear to have his pictures the subject of criticism or commerce to the jolly life-loving Fra Lippo, from the jealous, vindictive woman of "The Laboratory" to the vision-seeing Pompilia, from Ned Bratts to Bishop Blougram, and so on--so many and wonderful that custom cannot state their infinite variety.