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consistent policy on anything, and,
as a result, the play struggles to
achieve any kind of tragic effect
(it may be worth noting that the
term “Tragedy” is absent from the
title). Tragedy depends on a kind
of heroic consistency and self-
assertion in the face of cosmic
opposition or unlucky chance—and
this is not the story of King John.
Disputed succession
John’s assertion that “There is
no sure foundation set on blood”
(4.2.104) also relates to ideas of
identity and inheritance. The play’s
opening dispute is about who
stands next in line to the throne
after the deaths of Richard and
Geoffrey, Queen Eleanor’s elder
sons. There is disagreement about
whether a son (Arthur) or a brother
(John) should inherit, with even
Eleanor implying that Arthur
might have the superior claim.
The situation is made more
complicated by the larger difficulty
of determining paternity. This
anxiety is focused on Philip the
Bastard, who is proven to be
the illegitimate son of Richard the
Lionheart by physical resemblance.
Philip is left in the position of
choosing his identity—whether
to inherit Sir Robert’s estate, or
suffer the stigma of illegitimacy
in order to be recognized as
Richard’s son. He chooses the
latter, but the arbitrariness of his
choice reinforces the point that
“all men’s children” (1.1.63) must
doubt their paternity. In the verbal
battle between Eleanor and
Constance (2.1), both Arthur
and Richard the Lionheart stand
accused of being bastards.
It seems then that neither ruthless
political action nor an unquestioned
blood right to the throne are enough
to render kingship secure. The
play advises the necessity of
maintaining loyalty, particularly
among one’s nobles. The new
King Henry III is brought to tears
by the sight of Salisbury, Pembroke,
and Bigot kneeling before him.
A cynical response to this
display—given their betrayal of
King John and then the dauphin—
seems to be deliberately averted by
the Bastard’s final words, which
emphasize the need for unity:
“Naught shall make us rue / If
England to itself do rest but true”
(5.7.117–118). It is one of the play’s
deepest ironies that the man who
carries the blood of Richard the
Lionheart in his veins is denied the
chance to rule the nation he loves
more than its legitimate kings do. ■THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN’S MAN
Mad world, mad kings,
mad composition!
Philip the Bastard
Act 2, Scene 1I am amazed, methinks,
and lose my way
Among the thorns and
dangers of this world.
Philip the Bastard
Act 4, Scene 3Philip The Bastard
Philip Falconbridge has more
lines than any other character
in King John, and is often
described as the play’s hero.
Bastards in Shakespeare
are usually villains (Don John,
Iago, Edmund). The status of
“bastard” was equated with
a moral deficit, his inability
to inherit wealth leaving
him with a ruthless streak.
However, the Bastard of King
John is a comic figure: “Why,
what a madcap hath heaven
lent us here!” (1.1.84). He acts
as both a satirical chorus,
exposing the protagonists’
true motives, and a heroic
figure. In Maria Aberg’s 2012
production for the RSC, Philip’s
gender was changed, and he
was played with a mixture of
tenderness and scorn by Pippa
Nixon (above, left).
Philip is aware of the irony
of a bastard defending the
moral order, and at the end of
the play Salisbury advises the
new King Henry that it is his
duty “to set a form upon that
indigest” (5.7.26). That Philip
speaks the play’s final lines
may testify to his charisma
and rapport with the audience,
or to the difficulty that
subsequent kings will find
in imposing this ideal “form.”