Bum  in  the  purple,  nurtured  in  a  luxurious  court,  educated
■Olid  the  foolish  and  empty  disputations  of  Wittemberg,  the
Wend  of  Horatio,  the  lover  of  Ophelia,  sporting  away  his  time
tatween  jests  upon  Polonius  and  the  society  of  a  company  of
pkyers,  the  playfellow  of  Yorick,  and  the  idol  of  the  com-
ttooalty,  no  wonder  Hamlet's  amiable  but  somewhat  unschooled
Mare  vibrated  and  quailed  under  the  dread  mandate  of  his
fad  fiither. It  was  not  courage  he  wanted,  for  he  followed
^  ghostly  visitant  whithersoever  he  led,  but

"  the  native  hue  of  resolution

Was  sicklied  o'er  by  the  pale  cast  of  thought ;"

fl>B  enterprise  took  new  shapes  and  colours  under  the  applica-
^  of  his  Wittemberg  logic. It  grew  upon  him  like  some
BM>D8trous  and  distorted  vision ;  he  procrastinated,  he  dallied
^th  the  time,  he  went  about  the  court  like  a  soul  awry,
cwing  himself  in  mockery  upon  every  object  whose  vice,
^hose  fatuity,  or  even  whose  affection,  enabled  him  to  forget
fc  an  instant  the  incubus  that  overweighed  his  spirit. We  say
4at  in  this  respect  Ion  is  in  beautiful  contrast  with  Hamlet,
'^'gwured  by  an  education  mysteriously  secluded,  free  from  those
•luBh  passions  which  yitercourse  with  the  world  fosters  and
■tongthens,  shackled  but  by  a  single  tie,  and  that  scarce  known
to  himself,  he  enters  modestly,  but  with  perfect  consciousness  of
ftB  peril  of  his  mission,  on  his  errand  to  the  king. Fortified  by
fte  result  of  that  errand  in  his  conviction  of  a  high  destiny,  he
dttms  the  honour  of  the  more  dangerous  enterprise  almost
Iwfcre  the  lot  is  decided. Saved  from  the  conflict  between  fihal
•fetion  and  patriotic  duty,  he  advances  to  the  final  scene  of
hi  fate  with  a  high  port  and  descends  to  the  altar  a  perfectly
'rinntary,  self-possessed,  and  conscious  sacrifice,  on  the  holiday


212  Modern  English  Tragedy,  [Marci. li,


of  his  enthronement. So  admirably  has  the  author  sustaizi
the  destiny  of  the  piece,  that  the  conchision  seems  but    t:  iae
inevitable  and  quiet  close  of  on  actual  event,  so  free  is    1:1^6
sacrifice  of  Ion  from  all  the  turgid  conniionplaces  usual     o>a
such  occasions. It  is  but  the  nt^ccssary  end  of  a  career     in
which  self  has  had  no  share  ;  in  which  a  being,  born  for  otlieirs,
lays  down  his  life  in  one  great  act  of  devotion,  which  at  ar:ice
crowns  and  consummates  its  purposes. 