THE JOURNEY OF «SHCHEDRYK»: How a Ukrainian Hit Conquered the World
The Ukrainian Republican Capella during a performance in Prague, 1919 / poltava.to
«Shchedryk» is the most recognizable song of the 20th century. Its composer spent nearly twenty years working on the melody, creating five different arrangements. The carol was first performed in Kyiv in 1916 and made its American debut on October 5, 1922, at New York’s renowned Carnegie Hall. Later, it was translated into English, and residents of the «Big Apple» know our «Shchedryk» as the «Carol of the Bells». Since then, it has been sung in various languages across the globe.
JANUARY, THE CHOIR, AND THE BOLSHEVIKS
The idea emerged spontaneously. On January 1, 1919, a celebration honoring poet Mykola Vorony took place at the Young Theatre on Prorizna Street. Admirers and government officials, including Volodymyr Vynnychenko and Symon Petliura, came to congratulate him. Les Kurbas recited the jubilarian’s poems, and a Kyiv choir performed «The Legend» (lyrics by M. Vorony, music by M. Leontovych).
Commander-in-Chief Petliura was deeply impressed by the melody and vocals. He understood the profound impact of music on the human soul better than anyone, as he was a skilled intoner, conductor, and performer. The next morning, he summoned Kyrylo Stetsenko and conductor Oleksandr Koshyts, ordering them to form a choir within a week. «Or else,» he joked, «I’ll have you shot».
The head of the Directorate placed great hopes on this vocal ensemble. He wanted it to travel to France, where the Paris Peace Conference was about to begin, and assist diplomats in negotiations. At that time, hardly anyone knew about Ukraine — its language, culture, and history. It wasn’t seen as an independent entity, only as part of Russia. Yet Ukraine existed, with its rich vocabulary and seven grammatical cases, unique traditions and rituals (Ukrainians celebrated with borshch, carols, and kisses), the Constitution of Pylyp Orlyk, fortresses, caves, embroidered towels, and trembitas.
But how could they break through the dense Russian propaganda in such a short time? Of course — through heartfelt Ukrainian songs. Petliura’s lofty idea wasn’t understood by everyone. Many doubted that the wealthy Entente powers would empathize with Ukraine’s plight — after all, the well-fed do not pity the hungry. Yet Petliura firmly believed in musical diplomacy, in his «foreign army».
The task was entrusted to renowned Kyiv conductor Oleksandr Koshyts, a devoted admirer of Ukrainian repertoire. He was the author of an orchestral arrangement of the song «Oh, the Red Viburnum in the Meadow», knew dozens of scores by heart, and always exuded enthusiasm at concerts. No matter the circumstances, his choir delivered astonishing performances.
Koshyts managed to complete the task — not in one week, but in two. Advertisements were placed in newspapers, announcing the search for talented vocalists. The main requirements were an exceptional voice, excellent knowledge of musical notation, Ukrainian self-identification (proof of work for the benefit of the Ukrainian people was required), and a certain level of cultural refinement. Knowledge of French and English was also welcomed.
Auditions began shortly after. As planned, one hundred people were selected for the international tour. Among them were seventy-eight choir singers, two vocal coaches, and the rest administrative staff — clerks, a typist, couriers, a watchman, and a property manager. Among the singers were six oktavists — basso profondos capable of hitting exceptionally low notes, adding depth and gravity to every performance. The choir members were officially employed, and the ensemble was designated as a government institution of the Ukrainian People’s Republic (UNR). It received an official seal and generous funding for its operations.
The repertoire consisted of Ukrainian folk songs arranged by prominent contemporary composers. Modest and reserved, Mykola Leontovych humbly shook his head, never considering himself a gifted composer. When his wife, Klavdia, despaired and wept over their struggles, he reassured her: «Don’t worry. We will live better — after all, I will eventually become a composer.»
At that time, he was already referred to as the «Ukrainian Bach», and his works — «Dudaryk», «Oy z-za hori kam’yanoyi», «Pralya», and the mesmerizing «Shchedryk» — were performed on stage. Yet Leontovych constantly revised his compositions. He reworked «Shchedryk» four times and remained dissatisfied, so he began a fifth arrangement. Convinced his pieces were flawed and unworthy of the Paris stage, the maestro’s scores were ultimately taken from him by force.
THE SONG THAT ALMOST FROZE IN THE SNOW
Tensions in the city were rising, and the pressure was about to reach its peak. The Red Army, under the command of Antonov-Ovseenko, had already taken Nizhyn and Brovary. The enemy invasion crept closer to Kyiv, with artillery thundering on the outskirts. It was decided to evacuate the choir immediately.
The conductor was the first to leave — in what he later described as «allegro fuga tempo». The choir members followed, but not all. Only thirty singers dared to make the journey; the rest could not bring themselves to leave their families behind.
On February 4 (just one day before the occupation), chaos erupted at the train station. Crowds crammed into dark, motionless train cars, hoping they would miraculously depart. One person clutched a suitcase, another — a carved jewelry box and a floor lamp. A peculiar man arrived carrying a vintage chandelier. The choir members held bundles of food and sheet music. The commotion didn’t subside. Overhead, the swollen sky threatened to burst into a snowstorm.
A few days later, they reached the railway hub of Zhmerinka, but getting off the train was nearly impossible — snowdrifts were as tall as people. Their supplies were long gone, and hunger set in. On February 11, the train barely moved out of Hrechany Station before getting stuck in the snow at 3 a.m. The blizzard howled through the windows, fingers went numb, hives broke out, and Kamianets-Podilskyi was still 100 kilometers away. On the 14th, the train derailed, and passengers were transferred to sleds.
All around was frost, ruin, and dust — heaps of indifferent, snow-white drifts. Promised wages arrived in sacks, tossed in after them.
The «damned» journey, as they called it among themselves, lasted two grueling weeks. Eventually, they settled in a hotel with rickety beds, a typhoid-ridden sofa, and a washbasin.
Emotional and intolerant of any false note, conductor Oleksandr Koshyts immediately began rehearsals — forgetting that exhaustion and hunger could devastate vocal cords. He nearly fainted at what he heard.
Outraged and furious, he declared it the worst choral performance he had ever heard — a pack of howling wolves, a choir without voices. How could they carry a Christmas melody to heavenly heights? How could they repeat a phrase so that each rendition sounded even lighter and more graceful?
They had to hold another round of auditions, learn the repertoire, study basic French, and polish diplomatic etiquette. Costumes were sewn, loans were secured.
By April, as the snows melted into rivers and seas, the choir gave two concerts in Stanislav and headed to Prague. The city’s commandant sincerely blessed the performers on their journey, hoping the world would be amazed by the voice of Ukraine.
A LAUREL WREATH AND HORSE MEAT WITH PAPRIKA
The choir arrived in Prague in early May, only to be met with suspicion. Few had heard of the Ukrainian People’s Republic, and the musicians looked like beggars — dressed in rags and patched clothing. Koshyts wore a borrowed coat, elderly shoes without galoshes, and a shirt that had long since lost its whiteness, with only strings left of his tie. Their nighttime arrival was their only saving grace.
Organizers secured the best venues after intense negotiations, and soon the National Theatre blossomed with embroidered shirts, traditional skirts, and beaded necklaces.
The performance began with the Ukrainian national anthem «Shche ne vmerla Ukraina», followed by Czech and Slovak anthems, and then «Oy u poli viter viye», «Sviatiy Varvari», and «Hetmany». Their voices soared — pure and soulful. The melodies lifted hearts, stirred emotions, and even brought tears. Some accused the conductor of trickery.
They suspected hidden cellos or double basses behind the curtains, as ordinary human voices couldn’t possibly produce such sounds. The audience enjoyed the entire program, but «Shchedryk» was the undisputed favorite. It was performed several times as an encore, with listeners rising to their feet. Many marveled at how a masterpiece could emerge from just four notes.
Wiping his brow afterward, Oleksandr Koshyts winked at the singers: «Well, we’ve grabbed the Czechs by their hair!» Even Mykhailo Hrushevsky, initially skeptical about this venture, admitted, «I’m no musician, but I never imagined our songs could make such an impression abroad. I have to admit this journey of our choir is fully justified».
The choir gave seven sold-out concerts in Prague, earning a laurel wreath for the conductor. Newspapers declared: «It’s hard for the hand to write criticism when the heart sings praise» and «The Ukrainians came and conquered».
In July, the choir moved on to Austria, a country still recovering from war and the Spanish flu. Refugees, former soldiers, and the homeless wandered the streets. Housing, food, and water were scarce, and the smell of horse meat with paprika lingered nauseatingly in the air. Yet despite the hardships, the choir achieved another triumph. Vienna, long spoiled by music, reveled in the choir’s fresh and youthful melodies. Conversations about Ukraine grew louder.
By November, they finally reached Paris. But by then, all peace agreements had been signed, and Ukraine had been divided: Transcarpathia was given to Czechoslovakia, Galicia to Poland, Bukovina to Romania, and the Dnipro region to Russia. The choir arrived to represent a country that no longer existed.
Still, Oleksandr Koshyts pressed on. On November 6, 1919, at the largest concert hall — Olympia, on Boulevard des Capucines — the choir performed «La Marseillaise», followed by «Shche ne vmerla Ukraina», «Pochaivska Bozha Maty», and «Po openky khodyla». Tickets weren’t cheap — three francs for the balcony and eleven for the orchestra seats. As always, «Shchedryk» was the star of the program.
Next came Belgium, the Netherlands, Great Britain, Germany, Poland, and Spain. Everywhere they went, ovations and raves followed. Russian émigrés, however, repeatedly tried to disrupt concerts, shouting «Separatists!» But local police quickly silenced the hecklers. The world began to recognize Ukrainians as a nation — though it remained hesitant to offer any real support.
Meanwhile, Mykola Leontovych had no idea about his song’s rising fame. Struggling to survive the Red Terror, he walked 350 kilometers to Tulchyn. He wore a thin coat, a hat his wife had sewn from an old blanket, single-finger gloves, and gray pants patched with purple fabric.
Each night, despite the freezing cold and an empty stomach, he blew warm air onto his hands and played. Then he blew again and played some more — endlessly.
On January 23, 1921, as audiences in Europe ecstatically chanted «Shchedryk! Shchedryk! Shchedryk!» the song’s creator looked on from the heavens. That very day, a Soviet Cheka officer shot and killed Mykola Leontovych.
«SING, LITTLE SONGBIRD!»
In the fall, the choir was greeted by a thriving America. Then came Mexico, Uruguay, Brazil, Canada, and Cuba. Wherever they performed, «Shchedryk» became the highlight — the most requested song. It was covered by countless ensembles, chanted by passersby in the streets, and the word «shchedryk» quickly became a symbol of celebration, joy, and Christmas.
The tour lasted five and a half years. During that time, the choir gave over 600 concerts and received 1,300 reviews in various languages. Brussels gave them a standing ovation, and Belgium’s Queen Elisabeth wrote in the guestbook: «My sympathies are with your people».
Berlin compared the song to hashish — the sweetest narcotic. In England, «Shchedryk» was called a New Year’s serenade, while Warsaw newspapers dubbed Leontovych the «musical Homer». Mexican President Álvaro Obregón, who had lost an arm in war, exclaimed: «For the first time in my life, I regret not having a second hand to applaud you!» Meanwhile, a Brazilian literature scholar tearfully declared: «Sing, enchanting Ukraine, sing, little songbird! Scatter your sons’ songs across the world — spring will come, the one you’ve been waiting for!»
Soon, the choir members settled abroad — they had nowhere to return. Oleksandr Koshyts spent his later years in Canada, tirelessly promoting Ukrainian music. Reflecting in his memoirs, he wrote: «God helped me stand tall, never bowing my head. Though I have nothing, just as I never had, I never begged and carried my own cart until the very end».
«Shchedryk» has since received over a hundred arrangements across genres — rock, pop, jazz, and country — and has been featured in numerous films and TV shows, including The Simpsons, Harry Potter, and Die Hard. It has been performed on piano, organ, cello, violin, sopilka, saxophone, and even the kalimba — an ancient African instrument.
Through it all, «Shchedryk» remains what it has always been — a symbol of Christmas. And at its heart, just like a century ago, the melody rests on four simple notes.
Based on the research of Tina Peresunko, author of the book «Symon Petliura’s Cultural Diplomacy: Shchedryk vs. the Russian World. The Mission of Oleksandr Koshyts’ Choir (1919–1924)»
