Nicola here, talking slightly tongue-in-cheek about a certain trope in fiction, that of birth order. The concept of the “heir and the spare” is something that has been discussed quite a lot lately and it’s a theme that those of us who read historical romance are very familiar with. The noble family is desperate to have an heir (usually male, since women can’t inherit the majority of British titles) and that person will be expected to carry on the traditions of the family, inherit the title and any entailed fortune that goes with it. They will be in line to take the responsibility for the crumbling stately pile and if it really is crumbling, find an heiress whose inheritance fortunately comes from trade or some other source, to prop it up. It feels like a heavy weight for the heir to carry. The emphasis here is on responsibility and continuity. However, there’s a snag. What if something happens to the heir? Then you will need a spare – two boys at least – to ensure the continuation of the family line. So, to be on the safe side, most families try not to stop at one.
Whilst this is a trope in fiction and the source of many a plot, it is also a storyline you see in the UK magazines and newspapers every so often. There are a number of aristocratic families
where the parents have had two, three, even four girls before they finally conceived the longed-for boy. As another variation on a theme, it makes the news if the heir to a 700-year -old estate announces he’s going to sell, or isn’t going to continue the family “business.” Breaking away from that weight of tradition feels very difficult, a monumental effort creating shock waves. But I’m talking about fiction in this blog post, and older history, rather than any recent examples, so let’s get back to the books with these themes.
So in your historical romance you have the poor old heir who inherits the weight of responsibility for keeping things going. Maybe he’s a workaholic who needs to discover or embrace his “fun” side, or ask for help. Or he could be the opposite and be completely irresponsible, committed to a frivolous lifestyle; in 1748, Viscount Bolingbroke described his heir and nephew Frederick (pictured) as “the bane of my life.” The estates are in grave danger unless the heir can pull himself together.
Back in the (very old) days being a second son or further down the tree gave you quite a good chance of inheriting. If we look at British royalty, two of the sons of William the Conqueror became King of England and a third would very much have liked to. King John succeeded his brother Richard the Lionheart. Henry VIII was a second son and so was Charles II. There are plenty of other more recent examples. And again, you see this in historical fiction as well. War, carriage accidents, illness, all sorts of bad luck could rob a family of its firstborn. Sometimes the brothers are close and it’s a horrible experience for the second one to have to step up on losing his elder brother. Sometimes they haven’t known each other well. Sometimes they have even been at loggerheads and are regretting it. Some of the spares don’t want to give up their work or the lifestyle they have carved out for themselves to take on the responsibilities of an estate.
There are many variations. One I’ve particularly noticed is younger sons who have been in the Army in the Napoleonic Wars coming unexpectedly into a title. Given that the tradition that younger sons of the nobility and gentry would have a career either in the army or the church, this isn’t surprising, although I’d love to read a historical romance where a son who’d been a vicar had to step up to take a title. I’m sure there must be some. And this really did happen – twice in the Craven family the sons of clergymen found themselves next in line for the Barony.
The inversion of this plot is the eldest daughter who has a range of younger siblings and feels a responsibility to marry well to provide for them. When I was a teenager one of my favourite reads was Arabella by Georgette Heyer where (if I remember correctly) the heroine pretends to be vastly wealthy in order to catch a husband. "I am the rich Miss Tallant!" The sense of responsibility felt by the eldest can take many forms.
An honourable mention here goes to the “villain” plot. Royal and aristocratic history is littered with examples of relatives scheming against one another. (Bad King John again, for one!) Not for nothing is Game of Thrones known to be based on “real” history. And this is what makes it such a fine source of inspiration for fiction. Nor is it only at the higher echelons of society that this happens. People have been discussing birth order for years and the effect that has on character and family relationships. You get rivalries and alliances. My husband is the classic eldest child in the sense of being responsible and taking a lead. I’m sure we all know plenty of “second” and “youngest” children who either conform to the stereotype of their role in the family or complain about being typecast. And don’t even get me started on the stereotypical “only child.” If one more person tells me I’m spoiled and cosseted because I had no siblings, I will stamp my foot. But joking apart, there is often some truth in stereotypes and also plenty of times when they don’t hold up. It’s the universal elements that make these issues of sibling relationships something we can all relate to in real life and in fiction.
Do you have siblings? Do you think that birth order affects relationships and how we feel and behave? Is there a favourite book of yours that features sibling relationships; heirs, spares or heiresses? And can anyone recommend to me a Regency that features a vicar-turned-lord as a hero?!