King Charles III’s first Christmas speech will be a moment in history

Even before the King and his advisers began to draft his first Christmas broadcast, the public had decided what they wanted in it: a reflection upon, if not an outright celebration of, the life of the late Queen. Given His Majesty has not put a foot wrong since succeeding, and seems sensitive to public feeling, that assumption may well be right.

His mother routinely used her Christmas message to review not merely world, Commonwealth and national events of the year ending, but to refer to her family and its work. Last year, in what turned out to be her last such broadcast, the Duke of Edinburgh’s shadow hung over her remarks. In his first message, it would be strange if the King did not draw the proverbial line under the previous, unprecedented reign, not to consign it to the past, but to mark the end of a highly significant era.

King Charles III delivers his address to the nation and the Commonwealth from Buckingham Palace following the death of Queen Elizabeth II. Photo / Getty

He will talk to Britain and the Commonwealth on the 90th anniversary of the first such message, by his great-grandfather, King George V, in 1932. Now the message is recorded days in advance, and spliced with actuality of the year’s events, but a long lifetime ago matters were more rudimentary. King George interrupted his Christmas Day at Sandringham, and sat at a table in what his official biographer, Sir Harold Nicolson, called the “ugly little room underneath the staircase” in the Norfolk house, and spoke live to his country and his empire. Nicolson noted that soon - and King George died in 1936 -) these annual addresses had “wide and intimate influence”.

George V sought always to do the right thing, never courting popularity. Therefore in the autumn of 1923, in the first year of the BBC’s existence, he resisted the invitation of John Reith, its general manager, to use the new medium to make a Christmas or New Year address to his people. It is hard to imagine now, a century later, that the sound of the monarch’s voice had been heard only by a few thousand then alive who had either met him or been present at official functions. Reith understood that the BBC enabled a national conversation and while constitutionally the Sovereign could not lead or direct it because of his obligation to be above all political considerations, he could, while observing impartiality, contribute to it.

Reith’s suggestion received a dusty answer, not simply because of the King’s innate conservatism but because of that of his formidable and deeply trusted private secretary, Lord Stamfordham. He had been in royal service since the 1880s and often operated as though the world had not moved on. To persuade the King that not all change was appalling the BBC presented him with a wireless set; and his hitherto unheard voice was broadcast to the nation for the first time in April 1924, when the BBC relayed his speech when opening the British Empire Exhibition at Wembley. Ten million heard it, and courtiers, including eventually Stamfordham, began to see the positive consequences of bringing the King to his people in this way.

The BBC would broadcast other such speeches: but it was not until 1932, ironically after Stamfordham’s death, that the King finally agreed to talk directly to his people. Reith had collared him when he and Queen Mary opened the new Broadcasting House that year, and Ramsay MacDonald, his prime minister, and Clive Wigram, Stamfordham’s successor, supported the argument.

So just after 3pm on Christmas Day 1932, the King sat in the “ugly little room” and spoke just 251 words; the table at which he read was covered with a thick cloth, to prevent the noise of rustling paper if he shook with nerves. Another biographer, Kenneth Rose, said he spoke “in emphatic tones and the accent of an Edwardian country gentleman”. We can hear it for ourselves on YouTube. His script was written by Rudyard Kipling, and consciously poetic – “I speak now, from my home and from my heart to you all, to men and women so cut off by the snows, the desert or the sea, that only voices out of the air can reach them”. He alluded to those affected by the great economic depression and, still, by the effects of World War I, making a deep connection with millions. Yet he didn’t want to do it again, because it had disturbed his Christmas Day; but he had created an instant tradition. The world loved it: he did it annually until he died.

Unlike his great-grandson, George V had reigned for 22 years before his first broadcast. King Charles, after his long service as Prince of Wales, is even better known, and an experienced broadcaster. George V’s heir, Edward VIII, never made a Christmas broadcast: he knew from mid-November 1936 that he would almost certainly abdicate, and it seems no speech had even begun to be drafted. His brother King George VI chose not to broadcast just a fortnight after ascending the throne, after the first abdication since 1400. Despite the smoothness of the transition, his people were still mildly shocked. His first message, therefore, came in December 1937.

The King had suffered all his life from a stammer, and despite having been treated for it, the tape of his broadcast shows it remained a problem, causing him to speak very slowly. He sounds far older than his 42 years, and the message, while modest, kindly and caring in tone, lacks the charisma of his father’s first effort. He stressed the need for peace and goodwill as Europe looked increasingly threatening with the “shadows of enmity and fear” gathering, presaging the unstinting support he would soon give to the appeasement policy of his prime minister, Neville Chamberlain.

There was no message in 1938 but that of 1939, which began the unbroken annual tradition, became his most famous speech. Delivered much more firmly, in the fourth month of the war, it called for the upholding of Christian civilisation. The King quoted a poem by Minnie Haskins, shared with him by his daughter, the late Queen: “And I said to the man who stood at the Gate of the Year: ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown’. And he replied: ‘Go out into the darkness, and put your hand into the hand of God’.”

On Christmas Day 1952, nearly 11 months after she succeeded her father, the late Queen made her first Christmas broadcast. She spoke from Sandringham, from the same desk and chair in the same room as her father and grandfather, and pledged continuity with their values and examples, and to continue the works of unifying the Commonwealth and Empire. She thanked her people for their loyalty and affection in the first months of her reign – something her son might be expected to echo. From 1957 the message was televised, and eventually took on the mini-documentary format familiar today.

Doubtless it will evolve further under the new King. He has no shortage of examples from the previous three generations, but equally we have seen enough of him to know he will do it in his own way, in his own voice, however much he might, this year at least, dwell on his heritage.