Viscountess Emily Anne Eliza Strangford
“I have looked upon nothing with such satisfaction as upon the six hospitals which I have built. Where there were most afflicted by the insurrection, old men, children, and mothers, nothing that was strange, because of typhus and dysentery. Sofia, one of my sisters, was only 18 years old – she died here, in the village of Radilovo, again from typhus, but before she died, she fed the hungry and treated the sick.” ~Lady Emily Strangford
Emily Ann Beaufort was born in 1826 as the youngest child in the family of the renowned geographer and oceanographer Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort, of French origin. The intellectual atmosphere of the Beaufort household actively encouraged her interests in travel, the natural sciences, and writing. From an early age, Emily accompanied her father on extensive journeys, which profoundly shaped her scientific curiosity and cosmopolitan outlook. Between 1843 and 1845, during travels along the coasts of the Orkney Islands in northern Scotland and Ireland, she collected marine algae and systematically preserved them in a two-volume herbarium.
Around the same time, Emily Ann Beaufort, now known as Lady Emily Strangford appeared in Bulgaria as the widow of the noble friend of the Bulgarian people and former president of the Royal Asiatic Society, Lord Strangford. As early as the beginning of the summer of 1876, Lady Strangford issued and circulated in England an appeal for the collection of relief funds for the victims of the April Uprising. Within the first weeks of the campaign alone, £29,000 were raised, a sum that continued to increase thereafter. The death of Lord Stranford in 1869 was a turning point in her life. The widow devoted herself to philanthropy and to voluntary work. After her curiosity for the exotic worlds, which was further developed under the influence of her husband into a stable interest and devotion, she changed her life and dedicated her efforts to help solve the issues of poverty, sufferings and social injustice.
On 15 August 1876, Viscountess Emily Anne Eliza Strangford publicly announced the establishment of the Bulgarian Peasant Relief Fund. Addressing the British public, she appealed for a total of £10,000 to assist Bulgarians left homeless and destitute in the aftermath of violence and devastation. At the same time, she volunteered her personal services, committing herself not merely as a donor but as an active organizer of relief on the ground. Upon her arrival in Bulgaria, Lady Strangford continued the work of the first hospital founded by the American missionary James Clarke, and soon expanded these efforts substantially. She organized and financed the construction of five additional hospitals in Karlovo, Panagyurishte, Perushtitsa, Petrich, and Radilovo. From Plovdiv, where she was primarily based, she personally supervised the organization, staffing, and operation of these institutions, either directly or through trusted collaborators. The Ottoman authorities permitted her voluntary activities and assigned a police officer in Plovdiv both to accompany her as a bodyguard and to monitor her work. Convinced of the transformative role of education, Lady Strangford deliberately located her shelter for homeless families in Plovdiv near a school, ensuring that children could attend classes regularly. Her vision of relief thus extended beyond immediate survival toward long-term social recovery. Drawing on reports by James Clarke, she structured her humanitarian activities across six rural districts identified as being in particularly deplorable condition. Material assistance was distributed on an unprecedented scale: clothing, bedding, cooking utensils, medicines, and other necessities reached tens of thousands of people. In addition, one hundred wooden huts were provided to homeless families. The total value of distributed aid reached £24,874, a sum remarkable both for its scale and for the speed with which it was deployed. From the very beginning of her stay, Lady Strangford provided extensive clothing assistance, including over 12,000 women’s traditional garments (sukmani), 10,000 pairs of men’s trousers (poturi), an equal number of men’s cloaks and coats, more than 5,000 rain cloaks (yamurluks), and nearly 1,500 blankets. In total, clothing was supplied to more than 20,000 individuals. Beyond emergency relief, she also funded the construction of dwellings, a mill, 110 distillation cauldrons for rose-oil production in Klisura and surrounding villages, five sawmills in the Rhodope Mountains, and large quantities of essential foodstuffs.
A public dining hall in Koprivshtitsa was likewise established, reinforcing local networks of support. Until that time, Bulgarian society under Ottoman rule had not witnessed a charitable initiative of comparable scope carried out within so brief a period. Lady Strangford’s philanthropy was distinctly personal and participatory. She worked in close contact with the local population, assisted by several young Bulgarian men who served as collaborators and translators. She entrusted reliable local figures with the direct management of relief activities. Nevertheless, the establishment of new institutions was not without difficulties. As a British woman operating independently, she was sometimes suspected of being a Protestant missionary or a foreign spy. In Karlovo, rumors circulated that the newly founded hospital might be a psychiatric institution or even a brothel, reflecting the climate of suspicion and uncertainty that accompanied her efforts. Several months after the establishment of these hospitals, Pastor Ivan Tondjorov founded another hospital in Plovdiv, which functioned for many years. During its early period, this institution provided medical care and refuge to members of Bulgarian revolutionary committees. Remarkably, the hospital continued to operate even after Tondjorov himself was arrested and imprisoned as a revolutionary in Yedi Kule in Thessaloniki, while other Bulgarian evangelicals were exiled to Diyarbakir for similar activities.
Before departing Bulgaria, Lady Strangford expressed her intention that the hospital buildings she had founded be converted into schools, thereby ensuring their continued service to Bulgarian society. She also facilitated the education of several young Bulgarian men who had worked with her, sending them to pursue studies at British universities. After her return to Great Britain, Lady Strangford remained energetically engaged in philanthropic and educational initiatives. She organized the Female Emigrant Society in Dorset Street, contributed to the establishment of a Medical School in Beirut, founded a geographical award in memory of her husband at Harrow School, and supported the creation of another hospital in Cairo, Egypt. When Emily Strangford died in 1887, she left behind extensive documentation, correspondence, and scholarly materials. In accordance with her will, she bequeathed a copy of a highly valuable Bible and her herbarium to her Bulgarian collaborator Valko Shopov, a gesture symbolizing the enduring personal and intellectual bonds she had formed during her humanitarian mission in Bulgaria.
Dony K. Donev, D.Min., is a prominent researcher and author specializing in Bulgarian Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal history, with over three decades of study. His work, including 19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria and The Unforgotten: Historical and Theological Roots of Pentecostalism in Bulgaria, documents the development of these movements, their suppression under Communism, and the subsequent post-1989 revival. Key aspects of Donev’s research on Bulgarian Protestant history include:
Origins (19th Century): Protestant work began in the 1800s, with denominations like Congregationalists (1856), Methodists (1857), and Baptists (1865) establishing missions, culminating in the first Bulgarian Protestant Church in 1871. Donev also highlights the 1871 publication of the Protestant Bulgarian Bible translation. His research, often in collaboration with the Institute of Bulgarian Protestant History, has focused on preserving, digitizing, and recovering documents, including church diaries, photographs, and, in some cases, saving records from destruction during the communist era.
Aftermath of the April Uprising, 1876
Following the suppression of the April Uprising, horrific massacres were carried out in Batak, Perushtitsa, and other places in southern Bulgaria. In northern Bulgaria, the uprising in the Tarnovo district was also suppressed and its principal leaders executed. All of this adversely affected the evangelical work of both missions north and south of the Balkan range. Evangelical preachers were forced to limit their movements and make do with greatly reduced gatherings. Despite this, Bishop Andrews concluded his report to the Board in New York with the following recommendation:
“As soon as a more favorable opportunity presents itself for the Bulgarian mission, brethren from America must be sent in accordance with the purpose adopted when the work received its new impetus. This must be done because, in the event of death, transfer of missionaries to America, or proven incapacity on the part of the brethren now here, their number will not be sufficient.”
The Year 1877: A dark cloud hung over the mission. Yet the missionaries maintained unwavering faith in God. As often happens, light began to appear in the darkness. In Svishtov, Pastor Challis noticed encouraging signs early in the year. Church members, almost without exception, attended the prayer and class meetings. Two were received into full membership, and six on trial, in one of the villages within the Svishtov circuit. The Sunday school was well attended, and Pastor Challis translated into Bulgarian the questions for the Sunday lessons. Pastor Lounsbury likewise began his work in Tarnovo under encouraging conditions. Initially the meetings were well attended, but threats soon caused a significant decline in participation. Gavrail Iliev spent most of his time outside Ruse, in towns and villages where the massacres had occurred. Aid was distributed to 1,620 families. The Bulgarian preachers did everything they could in the afflicted areas of northern Bulgaria.
Lovech, 1877: Pastor and Eight Members Killed
During the Russo–Turkish War of 1877, when Russian forces captured Lovech and later withdrew temporarily, bashi-bazouk bands re-entered the town and slaughtered many people. According to some accounts, a massacre occurred at the place where the evangelicals gathered. Eight people were killed, including the preacher Nikola Voynov. It is unclear why this is omitted in the manuscripts of Pastor St. Tomov, though the event is confirmed.
Yordan Ikonomov then completing his theological course at the seminary in Drew, USA, was sent that same year to work in Bulgaria. The superintendent appointed him to teach the young men preparing for the ministry.
The Death of Mrs. Challis: In April 1877 Russia declared war on Turkey with the aim of liberating Bulgaria from Ottoman rule. Mrs. Flocken fell ill, and Mrs. Challis was holding a small child in her arms. Pastor Flocken believed it best to take the women to Germany and then return to Bulgaria. Just as he was preparing to carry out this plan, Pastor Challis contracted smallpox, and his devoted wife refused to leave him. The disease spread to the child, making separation impossible. Flocken departed with his wife, but upon arriving in Budapest, Mrs. Flocken was unable to continue the journey. He placed her in a Christian hospital, where the next day she gave birth to a daughter. Eager to return to Ruse, he soon learned the sorrowful news of the death of Mrs. Challis, who had died of smallpox.
Meanwhile Russian troops were advancing toward Svishtov, and the superintendent advised Pastor Challis to take his child to the United States, as he would be unable to care for it in Bulgaria. Following this counsel, Pastor Challis left for America accompanied by Miss Siika Dimitrova, daughter of Grandfather Dimitar – one of the first evangelicals in Svishtov – who agreed to care for the child. They arrived in New York in June 1877. Upon the advice of the mission secretaries and the bishop, he took up work in his Annual Conference until the end of the war in Bulgaria. Flocken received word from Budapest that his wife and newborn child were not expected to live long. He summoned Lounsbury to Ruse and left for Budapest. The child died, but by God’s mercy his wife survived.
The Russians crossed the Danube, and the missionaries were forced to withdraw. The mission was divided by the warring armies. Under these circumstances the Board advised Flocken and Lounsbury to return to the United States, and they departed. Pastor Flocken arrived in New York on 1 February 1878, and Lounsbury several weeks earlier.
Dony K. Donev, D.Min., is a prominent researcher and author specializing in Bulgarian Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal history, with over three decades of study. His work, including 19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria and The Unforgotten: Historical and Theological Roots of Pentecostalism in Bulgaria, documents the development of these movements, their suppression under Communism, and the subsequent post-1989 revival. Key aspects of Donev’s research on Bulgarian Protestant history include:
Origins (19th Century): Protestant work began in the 1800s, with denominations like Congregationalists (1856), Methodists (1857), and Baptists (1865) establishing missions, culminating in the first Bulgarian Protestant Church in 1871. Donev also highlights the 1871 publication of the Protestant Bulgarian Bible translation. His research, often in collaboration with the Institute of Bulgarian Protestant History, has focused on preserving, digitizing, and recovering documents, including church diaries, photographs, and, in some cases, saving records from destruction during the communist era.
Januarius MacGahan: Turkish Atrocities in Bulgaria (Part 2)
At the next house a man stopped us to show where a blinded little brother had been burned alive, and the spot where he had found his calcined bones, and the rough, hard-vizaged man sat down and sobbed like a child…. On the other side of the way were the skeletons of two children lying side by side, partly covered with stones, and with frightful, sabre cuts in their little skulls. The number of children killed in these massacres is something enormous. They were often spitted on bayonets, and we have several stories from eye-witnesses who saw the little babes carried about the streets, both here and at Olluk-Kui, on the points of bayonets. The reason is simple. When a Mohammedan has killed a certain number of infidels, he is sure of Paradise, no matter what his sins may be. Mahomet probably intended that only armed men should count, but the ordinary Mussulman takes the precept in its broader acceptation, and counts women and children as well. The advantage of killing children is that it can be done without danger, and that a child counts for as much as an armed man. Here in Batak the Bashi-Bazouks, in order to swell the count, ripped open pregnant women, and killed the unborn infants. As we approached the middle of the town, bones, skeletons, and skulls became more numerous. There was not a house beneath the ruins of which we did not perceive human remains, and the street besides was strewn with them.
Before many of the doorways women were walking up and down wailing their funeral chant. One of them caught me by the arm and led me inside of the walls, and there in one corner, half covered with stones and mortar, were the remains of another young girl, with her long hair flowing wildly about among the stones and dust. And the mother fairly shrieked with agony, and beat her head madly against the wall. I could only turn round and walk out sick at heart, leaving her alone with her skeleton. A few steps further on sat a woman on a doorstep, rocking herself to and fro, and uttering moans heartrending beyond anything I could have imagined. Her head was buried in her hands, while her fingers were unconsciously twisting and tearing her hair as she gazed into her lap, where lay three little skulls with the hair still clinging to them.…
And now we begin to approach the church and the schoolhouse. The ground is covered here with skeletons, to which are clinging articles of clothing and bits of putrid flesh; the air is heavy with a faint sickening odour, that grows stronger as we advance. It is beginning to be horrible.
The school is on one side of the road, the church on the other. The schoolhouse, to judge by the walls that are in part standing, was a fine large building, capable of accommodating two or three hundred children. Beneath the stones and rubbish that cover the floor to the height of several feet, are the bones and ashes of two hundred women and children burnt alive between those four walls. Just beside the school house is a broad shallow pit. Here were buried a hundred bodies two weeks after the massacre. But the dogs uncovered them in part.
The water flowed in, and now it lies there a horrid cesspool, with human remains floating about or lying half exposed in the mud. Nearby, on the bunks of the little stream that runs through the village, is a sawmill. The wheel-pit beneath is full of dead bodies floating in the water.
The banks of this stream were at one time literally covered with corpses of men and women, young girls and children, that lay there festering in the sun, and eaten by dogs. But the pitiful sky rained down a torrent upon them, and the little stream swelled and rose up and carried the bodies away, and strewed them far down its grassy banks, through its narrow gorges and dark defiles beneath the thick underbrush and the shady woods as far as Pestera, and even Tatar Buzardjik, forty miles distant.
We entered the churchyard, but the odour here became so bad that it was almost impossible to proceed. We take a handful of tobacco, and hold it to our noses while we continue our investigation. The church was not a very large one, and it was surrounded by a low stone wall, enclosing a small churchyard about fifty yards wide by seventy-five long. At first we perceive nothing in particular, and the stench was so great that we scarcely care to look about us, but we see that the place is heaped up with stones and rubbish to the height of five or six feet above the level of the street, and upon inspection we discover that what appeared to be a mass of stones and rubbish is in reality an immense heap of human bodies covered over with a thin layer of stones. The whole of the little churchyard is heaped up with them to the depth of three or four feet, and it is from here that the fearful odour comes….
We were told there were three thousand people lying here in this little churchyard alone, and we could well believe it. It was a fearful sight – a sight to haunt one through life. There were little curly heads there in that festering mass, crushed down by heavy stones; little feet not as long as your finger on which the flesh was dried hard, by the ardent heat before it had time to decompose; little baby hands stretched out as if for help; babes that had died wondering at the bright gleam of sabres and the red hands of the fierce-eyed men who wielded them; children who had died shrinking with fright and terror; young girls who had died weeping and sobbing and begging for mercy; mothers who died trying to shield their little ones with their own weak bodies, all lying there together, festering in one horrid mass. They are silent enough now. There are no tears nor cries, no weeping, no shrieks of terror, nor prayers for mercy. The harvests are rotting in the fields, and the reapers are rotting here in the churchyard.
We looked into the church which had been blackened by the burning of the woodwork, but not destroyed, nor even much injured. It was a low building with a low roof, supported by heavy irregular arches, that as we looked in seemed scarcely high enough for a tall man to stand under. What we saw there was too frightful for more than a hasty glance. An immense number of bodies had been partly burnt there and the charred and blackened remains, that seemed to fill it half way up to the low dark arches and make them lower and darker still, were lying in a state of putrefaction too frightful to look upon.
I had never imagined anything so horrible.
We all turned away sick and faint, and staggered out of the fearful pest house glad to get into the street again. We walked about the place and saw the same things repeated over and over a hundred times. Skeletons of men with the clothing and flesh still hanging to and rotting together; skulls of women, with the hair dragging in the dust, bones of children and of infants everywhere. Here they show us a house where twenty people were burned alive; there another where a dozen girls had taken refuge, and been slaughtered to the last one, as their bones amply testified. Everywhere horrors upon horrors.
….Some of those who have been able to identify the bones of friends have made weak attempts at burying them. But they have no spades to dig graves with, and they are weak and starving. Besides, many of the survivors are women, who have
made fruitless efforts to keep the bodies of loved ones covered with a little earth. We had ample proof that wherever bones could be identified, they were tenderly cared for. We saw many well-kept graves decorated with flowers. We saw others that had been uncovered by the rain or the dogs, leaving parts of the skeleton exposed, that were still decorated with flowers. We even saw skulls lying on the ground, within a doorway or a garden wall, with a bouquet of flowers lying upon them, as though some one was caring for them, and was yet loth to bury them away out of sight. I saw one half buried, with the face upward, and its hollow eyes gazing reproachfully up at the sunny sky, with a bouquet carefully placed in its mouth; but most of these skeletons and bones have nobody to look after them.
Of the eight or nine thousand people who made up the population of the place, there are only twelve or fifteen hundred left, and they have neither tools to dig graves with nor strength to use spades if they had them. But why have the Turkish authorities not buried them out of sight? The Turkish authorities will tell you they have buried them, and that there were very few to bury. Of all the cruel, brutal, ferocious things the Turks ever did, the massacre of Batak is among the worst! Of all the mad, foolish things they ever did, leaving these bodies to lie here rotting for three months un-buried is probably the maddest and most foolish! But this village was in an isolated, out-of-the way place, difficult of access, and they never thought Europeans would go poking their noses here, so they cynically said, “These Christians are not even worth burial, let the dogs eat them.”
We talked to many of the people, but we had not the heart to listen to many of their stories in detail, and we restricted ourselves to simply asking them the number lost in each family. No other method would probably give a better idea of the fearful character of the massacre, and the way in which whole families were swept out of existence. “How many ware in your family?” we would ask. “Ten,” the answer would be, perhaps. “How many remain?” “Two.” “How many in yours?” “Eight.” How many remain?” “Three.” “How many in yours?” “Fifteen.” “How many remain?” “Five.” And so on in families numbering from five to twenty, in which only remained from one to five persons.
One old woman came to us, wringing her hands, and crying in that hard tearless manner of which I have already spoken, and when we could get her sufficiently calmed to tell us her story, she said she had three tall handsome sons, Ghiorghy, Ivantehu, und Stoyan, and they were all married to good and dutiful wives, Reika, Stoyanka, and Anka, and they had between them twelve beautiful children, Anghel and Tragan and Ghiorghy and Ivantchu, Letko, Assen, Boydan, Stoyan, Tonka, Gingka, Marika, and Reika, so that the family counted all told nineteen persons living under the same roof. Of all this large flourishing family, the tall handsome sons, the dutiful wives, and the twelve beautiful children, there remained only this poor old grandmother. They were all brutally slaughtered to the last one. Of this nourishing family tree there remained only this lifeless withered trunk, and the poor old woman sat down and beat her head against the ground, and fairly screamed out her despair…. We were told that any number of children and young girls had been carried off; that it was known in what Turkish villages they were kept, and that the Turks simply refused to restore them to their parents. Mr. Schuyler afterwards obtained a list, with the names and ages of eighty-seven girls and boys that had been carried off, with the name of the village in which each was kept…. We asked about the skulls and bones we had seen up on the hill upon first arriving in the village where the dogs had barked at us. These we were told were the bones of about two hundred young girls, who had first been captured and particularly reserved for a worse fate than death. They had been kept till the last; they had been in the hands of their captors for several days – for the burning and the pillaging had not all been accomplished in a single day – and during this time they had suffered all it was possible that poor weak trembling girls could suffer at the hands of brutal savages. Then, when the town had been pillaged and burnt, when all their friends had been slaughtered, these poor young things, whose very wrongs should have insured them safety, whose very outrages should have insured them protection, were taken, in the broad light of day, beneath the smiling canopy of heaven, coolly beheaded, then thrown in a heap there, and left to rot.”
~ J. A. MacGahan (The Daily News, August 22, 1876)
Dony K. Donev, D.Min., is a prominent researcher and author specializing in Bulgarian Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal history, with over three decades of study. His work, including 19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria and The Unforgotten: Historical and Theological Roots of Pentecostalism in Bulgaria, documents the development of these movements, their suppression under Communism, and the subsequent post-1989 revival. Key aspects of Donev’s research on Bulgarian Protestant history include:
Origins (19th Century): Protestant work began in the 1800s, with denominations like Congregationalists (1856), Methodists (1857), and Baptists (1865) establishing missions, culminating in the first Bulgarian Protestant Church in 1871. Donev also highlights the 1871 publication of the Protestant Bulgarian Bible translation. His research, often in collaboration with the Institute of Bulgarian Protestant History, has focused on preserving, digitizing, and recovering documents, including church diaries, photographs, and, in some cases, saving records from destruction during the communist era.
Januarius MacGahan: Turkish Atrocities in Bulgaria (Part 1)
“A pilgrim from the ends of earth I come
To kneel devoutly at your lowly tomb
To own our debt, we can never repay
To sigh with gratitude, thank God and pray
To bless your name and bless your name
For this I came.” ~Stoyan Vatralsky
“Since my letter of yesterday I have supped full of horrors. Nothing has as yet been said of the Turks that I do not now believe; nothing could be said of them that I should not think probable and likely. There is, it seems, a point in atrocity beyond which discrimination is impossible, when mere comparison, calculation, measurement are out of the question, and this point the Turks have already passed. You can follow them no further.…
But let me tell you what we saw in Batak: We had some difficulty in getting away from Pes[h]tera. The authorities were offended because Mr. Schuyler refused to take any Turkish official with him, and they ordered the inhabitants to tell us that there were no horses, for we had to leave our carriages and take to the saddle. But the people were so anxious that we should go that they furnished horses in spite of the prohibition, only bringing them at first without saddles, by way of showing how reluctantly they did it. We asked them if they could not bring us saddles, also, and this they did with much alacrity and some chuckling at the way in which the Mudir’s orders were walked over. Finally, we mounted and got off. We had been besieged all the morning by the same people who had blockaded us the night before, or who appeared to be the same, their stories were so much alike. We could do nothing but listen in pity to a few of them – it would have taken all day to hear each separate tale of misery and suffering – gave vague promises that we would do all in our power to relieve their misery upon our return to Constantinople. But diplomatic help is, alas! very slow. While ambassadors are exchanging notes and compliments inviting each other to dinner, discussing the matter over their coffee and cigars, making representations to the Porte, and obtaining promises which nobody believes in, these poor people are starving and dying. Many of them decided to seize this opportunity and accompany us to Batak, to visit their ruined homes, and others caught our bridle reins, determined to make us listen to their stories before we should start. One woman caught my horse, and held it until she could show me where a bullet had traversed her arm, completely disabling her from work, and this was only the least of her woes. Husband killed, and little children depending on that broken arm for bread; all of this told in a language so much like Russian that I could understand a great deal of it; so like Russian that I could easily have fancied myself amongst peasants of the Volga, or the denizens of the Gostinoidvor, Moscow. The resemblance is striking, and it is no wonder the Russians sympathise with these people….
Batak is situated about thirty miles south of Tatar Bazardjik as the crow flies, high up in a spur of the Balkans that here sweeps around to the south from the main range. The road was only a steep mountain path that in places might have tried the agility of a goat. There was a better one, as we learned upon our return, but with that perversity which distinguishes the Oriental mind, our guide took this one instead….
After three hours’ climbing by paths so steep that we were obliged to dismount and walk half the time without then seeming quite safe from rolling down into some abyss, mounting higher and higher until we seemed to have got among the clouds, we at last emerged from a thick wood into a delightful little valley that spread out a rich carpet of verdure before our eyes…. The mill-wheels are silent now. This little valley with its rich grassy slopes ought to have been covered with herds of sheep and cattle. Not one was to be seen. The pretty little place was as lonely as a graveyard, or as though no living thing had trod its rich greensward for years…. This was the village of Batak, which we were in search of.
…. We turned aside from the road, and passing over the debris of two or three walls and through several gardens, urged our horses up the ascent toward the dogs. They barked at us in an angry manner, and then ran off into the adjoining fields. I observed nothing peculiar as we mounted until my horse stumbled, when looking down I perceived he had stepped on a human skull partly hid among the grass. It was quite hard and dry, and might, to all appearances, have been there two or three years, so well had the dogs done their work. A few steps further there was another and part of a skeleton, likewise, white and dry. As we ascended, bones, skulls, and skeletons became more frequent, but here they had not been picked so clean, for there were fragments of half dry, half putrid flesh attached to them. At last, we came to a little plateau or shelf on the hillside, where the ground was nearly level, with the exception of a little indentation, where the head of a hollow broke through. We rode toward this with the intention of crossing it, but all suddenly drew reign with an exclamation of horror, for right before us, almost beneath our horses’ feet, was a sight that made us shudder. It was a heap of skulls, intermingled with bones from all parts of the human body, skeletons nearly entire and rotting, clothing, human hair and putrid flesh lying there in one foul heap, around which the grass was growing luxuriantly. It emitted a sickening odour, like that of a dead horse, and it was here that the dogs had been seeking a hasty repast when our untimely approach interrupted them.
In the midst of this heap, I could distinguish the slight skeleton form, still enclosed in a chemise, the skull wrapped about with a coloured handkerchief, and the bony ankles encased in the embroidered footless stockings worn by Bulgarian girls. We looked about us. The ground was strewed with bones in every direction, where the dogs had carried them off to gnaw them at their leisure.
At the distance of a hundred yards beneath us lay the town. As seen from our standpoint, it reminded one somewhat of the ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii. There was not a roof left, not a whole wall standing; all was a mass of ruins, from which arose as we listened a low plaintive wail, like the “keening” of the Irish over their dead, that filled the little valley and gave it voice. We had the explanation of thin curious sound when we afterwards descended into the village. We looked again at the heap of skulls and skeletons before us, and we observed that they were all small and that the articles of clothing intermingled with them and lying about were all women’s apparel. These, then, were all women and girls. From my saddle I counted about a hundred skulls, not including those that were hidden beneath the others in the ghastly heap nor those that were scattered far and wide through the fields. The skulls were nearly all separated from the rest of the bones – the skeletons were nearly all headless. These women had all been beheaded.
We descended into the town. Within the shattered walls of the first house we came to was a woman sitting upon a heap of rubbish rocking herself to and fro, wailing a kind of monotonous chant, half sung, half sobbed, that was not without a wild discordant melody. In her lap she held a babe, and another child sat beside her patiently and silently, and looked at us as we passed with wondering eyes. She paid no attention to us, but we bent our ear to hear what she was saying, and our interpreter said it was as follows: “My home, my home, my poor home, my sweet home; my husband, my husband, my dear husband, my poor husband; my home, my sweet home,” and so on, repeating the same words over again a thousand times. In the next house were two engaged in a similar way; one old, the other young, repeating words nearly identical: “I had a home, now I have none; I had a husband, now I am a widow; I had a son, and now I have none; I had five children, and now I have one,” while rocking themselves to and fro, beating their heads and wringing their hands. These were women who had escaped from the massacre, and had only just returned for the first time, having taken advantage of our visit or that of Mr. Baring to do so. They might hare returned long ago, but their terror was so great that they had not dared without the presence and protection of a foreigner, and now they would go on for hours in this way, “keening” this kind of funeral dirge over their ruined homes. This was the explanation of the curious sound we had heard when up on the hill.
As we advanced there were more and more; some sitting on the heaps of stones that covered the floors of their houses; others walking up and down before their doors, wringing their hands and repeating the same despairing wail. There were few tears in this universal mourning. It was dry, hard, and despairing. The fountain of tears had been dried up weeks before, but the tide of sorrow and misery was as great as ever, and had to find vent without their aid. As we proceeded most of them fell into line behind us, and they finally formed a procession of four or five hundred people, mostly women and children, who followed us about wherever we went with their mournful cries. Such a sound as their united voices sent up to heaven I hope never to hear again.
….A little further on we came to an object that filled us with pity and horror. It was the skeleton of a young girl not more than fifteen lying by the roadside, and partly covered with the debris of a fallen wall. It was still clothed in a chemise; the ankles were enclosed in footless stockings, but the little feet, from which the shoes had been taken, were naked, and owing to the fact that the flesh had dried instead of decomposing were nearly perfect. There was a large gash in the skull, to which a mass of rich brown hair, nearly a yard long, still clung, trailing in the dust. It is to be remarked that all the skeletons found here were dressed in a chemise only, and this poor child had evidently been stripped to her chemise, partly in the search for money and jewels, partly out of mere brutality, and afterwards killed. We have tallied with many women who had passed through all parts of the ordeal but the last, and the procedure seems to have been, as follows: They would seize a woman, strip her carefully to her chemise, laying aside articles of clothing that wore valuable, with any ornaments and jewels she might have about her. Then as many of them as cared would violate her, and the last man would kill her or not as the humour took him.
Dony K. Donev, D.Min., is a prominent researcher and author specializing in Bulgarian Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal history, with over three decades of study. His work, including 19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria and The Unforgotten: Historical and Theological Roots of Pentecostalism in Bulgaria, documents the development of these movements, their suppression under Communism, and the subsequent post-1989 revival. Key aspects of Donev’s research on Bulgarian Protestant history include:
Origins (19th Century): Protestant work began in the 1800s, with denominations like Congregationalists (1856), Methodists (1857), and Baptists (1865) establishing missions, culminating in the first Bulgarian Protestant Church in 1871. Donev also highlights the 1871 publication of the Protestant Bulgarian Bible translation. His research, often in collaboration with the Institute of Bulgarian Protestant History, has focused on preserving, digitizing, and recovering documents, including church diaries, photographs, and, in some cases, saving records from destruction during the communist era.
Ivan Voronaev: Back in the USSR
This book is a Journey!
A journey that has stretched over three continents and a century of time. And a journey that may not be yet over…
This book is Ivan Voronaev’s journey in search of Truth, Spirit and Power. A search for a new name, a new life and a new reality. A journey that redefined his life and the lives of thousands around him. A journey of life that sentenced him to death! And essentially, a journey that became his life as a martyr and reaching into The Life Himself.
This book is my own journey of searching, uncovering, and at times even leaving alone sensitive documents from church denominations, secret government organizations and long-kept personal archives. A journey to discover that instead of being celebrated has mostly met with a push to be silenced and in the case of governments even sealed as top secret.
And finally, this book is our journey as Pentecostals. For a life of self-sacrifice defines us all as a movement. Or at least it should, as it did once upon a time at the start of Modern Day Pentecost. And a journey we all still need to take…
Over the years the research on the life and ministry of Ivan Voronaev faced strong opposition from both Balkan chauvinism and Slavic imperialism. It was constantly challenged for being both misunderstanding and misunderstood. But as a 5th generation Bulgarian Pentecostal, who grew under Communism with family roots traced to the original Pentecostal revival that shook the country in 1920, I do understand. A great-great-granduncle and great-great-grandaunt of mine were taken from the Thracian fields into slavery by the Turks. Two of my great-great-granduncles were hanged on the historic Oak of 100 Rebels, where 1876 uprising leaders were killed by the Ottomans. My great grandmother was heavily persecuted by Bulgarian Orthodoxy for accepting Pentecost in 1928, after my grandmother was miraculously healed on her deathbed of tuberculosis at age four. Both of my grandfathers were prosecuted by the secret Communist police, one for being a Pentecostal preacher and the other for having a successful businessman and landowner during the Communist nationalization of 1958. Neither of my parents was ever allowed to study pass high school or hold a job of any importance, because they came from families of believers and Protestants, treated as “enemy of the state.” My sister and I were saved as teenagers at the fall of the Berlin Wall, but not late enough not to be mocked for calling publicly professing the Lord. For this reason alone, I’ve strived to tell this story with distinct self-realization and personal passion – to understand and be understood.
Protestant Participation in the April Uprising (1876)
A considerable number of Protestants took part in the prematurely erupted April Uprising. Many of them were in the immediate circle of Benkovski, Vasil Volóv, and the other revolutionary apostles. Some Protestants joined during the uprising itself. According to Dimitar Strashimirov, about sixty men from the village of Tserovo, in the Pazardzhik region, joined Benkovski’s detachment under the leadership of Tsvyatko Brŭshkov. At that time Tserovo had 120 households, fifteen of which belonged to Bulgarian Protestants. Two roster protocols were compiled – one larger list for the Orthodox, and a smaller one for the Protestants. The leaders of the Protestant group were K. Teliyski and Nikola Kochov. From the same village came Ivan Cheshírov, one of the “tens-men” (leaders of groups of ten) in the Flying Column. Collective memory has preserved the names of two well-known Protestants from Panagyurishte as active participants in the uprising: Stefan Balabanov, who organized the sewing of clothing for the rebels, and Rad Minev, one of the most experienced arms-bearers of the insurgent town.
Protestants were also involved in the activities of nearly all revolutionary districts. Particularly dramatic was the fate of the evangelist Stoil Findzhikov, the master craftsman of the “cherry-wood cannons,” who became a symbol of the uprising. As a youth, Stoil had worked in a military workshop in Constantinople, where he learned details of firearms manufacture. On the eve of the uprising and during its course, prompted by Volov and Benkovski, he crafted and refined several of these primitive cannons. He fired his last “cherry-wood cannon” at the advancing Ottoman forces beneath Mount Kamenitsa. Under the pressure of the attacking bashi-bozouk irregulars, the defenders fled one by one, and some fell in battle.
The evangelist Petar Donchev from Panagyurishte also took an active part in the April Uprising. During the height of the revolt, he served as a trusted courier between the surrounding towns and villages, employed by both Benkovski and Volov. “Petraki,” as the insurgents called him, displayed remarkable resourcefulness, courage, and self-sacrifice. After the uprising he departed for the United States, where he studied theology, later returning to Bulgaria as pastor in Chirpan. Yet he remained throughout his life a passionate patriot and tireless public figure. He declined every offer of praise or reward after the Liberation with the simple words that “whatever he had done, he had done for God and for the Fatherland.”
In the early summer days of 1876, there existed a real danger that the bloody sacrifice of the Bulgarian people would be silenced. Had this occurred, the central idea of the revolutionary movement – and the sacrifice of tens of thousands – would have faded ingloriously into obscurity. At precisely this moment, Bulgarians from Pazardzhik and Plovdiv succeeded in secretly sending the first accurate and detailed descriptions of the events in the rebellious regions to the Protestant missionaries in Constantinople. A decisive man – Father Tilev of Pazardzhik – was the first to describe the massacres, the fires, the hangings, the mass slaughter of defenseless people, and the full horror experienced by the population in the affected districts. He entrusted the packet of writings to the Croat Ilitch, director of the Austrian post in Plovdiv, asking him to forward it to a friend in Constantinople who would deliver it personally to Dr. Albert Long. The first description was soon followed by a second and a third. Reports and accounts began to appear from other sources as well. Ivan Ev. Geshov of Plovdiv also sent a letter through Andrei Tsanov to Dr. Long, writing, among other things: “Many villages in the Pazardzhik region are in flames and the people are being exterminated. Is there no help or protection for them from somewhere?”
With the help of Andrei Tsanov, Dr. Long translated the letters into English and consulted Dr. George Washburn, director of Robert College. The two agreed that Dr. Long would systematize the shocking materials arriving in Constantinople, while Dr. Washburn would bring them to the attention of influential English and American figures in the Ottoman capital. Thus, the information reached Edwin Pears, an English barrister and correspondent for the Daily News, who sent the first alarming reports. The London editorial office initially refused to believe the atrocious descriptions and demanded telegraphic confirmation from Pears himself. Only then, on 23 June 1876, did the Daily News publish the first horrifying accounts of the tragedy of the Bulgarian people.
Dr. Long and Dr. Washburn presented the matter to the British ambassador Henry Elliot and the American minister Horace Maynard. Elliot stated that the matter had to be investigated and verified before being taken “seriously.” Undeterred, the two missionaries sent a second, even more detailed report to the Daily News, insisting that Britain intervene on behalf of the suffering Christian population. Gradually, the Disraeli–Beaconsfield government was cornered, and the prime minister attempted to deflect the issue by declaring in Parliament that “all this commotion is nothing but coffeehouse gossip.” This statement, however, marked the beginning of the crisis’ most intense phase.
More and more dispatches appeared in the Daily News and in a growing number of British and European newspapers. The Daily Mail sent the well-known American journalist Januarius MacGahan – then in London – to visit the sites of the atrocities and report his findings. Disraeli, for his part, ordered an “urgent inquiry” by the British Embassy in Constantinople. The ambassador entrusted the task to the youngest member of the mission, Walter Baring, along with his father-in-law, Fr. Gauracino, a Levantine, retired British consul, and significant debtor to the Ottoman state.
To the American missionaries it was clear that this move sought to obscure the truth about the massacre of an entire people. They immediately visited Minister Maynard again, insisting that the newly arrived first secretary and U.S. consul general in Constantinople, Eugene Schuyler, depart for the burned and blood-soaked regions of Bulgaria. This was also necessary because they feared that the Ottoman government would refuse permission for Baring to carry out his mission.
Minister Maynard expressed his profound sympathy for the Bulgarian people but explained that his duties in Constantinople did not include intervention in the political affairs of the empire, being limited exclusively to the promotion of “commercial relations.” In his view, only one Great Power – Britain – could exert real influence over Turkey. Dr. Washburn, exasperated, rose from his chair and firmly declared: “I am going directly to the telegraph office to inform the President of the United States that his representative in Turkey refuses to lift a finger to save an entire nation of suffering Christians. And I shall report the same to the American press.” The minister was compelled to ask Washburn to return to his office. With the assistance of Dr. Long, they devised a “skillful maneuver”: Eugene Schuyler would travel to Adrianople and the province “to identify and appoint a suitable correspondent for commercial matters.” Thus, the ground was prepared. Upon MacGahan’s arrival, the two Americans, both fluent in Russian, together with Petar Dimitrov, a graduate of Robert College and secretary of the newspaper Zornitsa, set out for the devastated regions of Bulgaria. They were later joined by the Russian consul in Adrianople, Prince Tsertelev.
Meanwhile, Dr. Jacob Clarke of Plovdiv was the first foreigner to visit Batak immediately after the massacre, accompanied by Pastor Nikola Boyadzhiev of Panagyurishte. Amid the ghastly scene and overwhelming stench, they placed in their suitcase several heads of children and women – still with their hair braided – and carried them back to Plovdiv. These were physical proofs intended to confront certain foreign skeptics, influenced by Ottoman officials, who claimed that the victims had been “rebels” whom the Turks were obliged to eliminate “to preserve order.” Dr. Clarke visited several consuls in Plovdiv and began taking out the severed heads one by one, asking: “Is this a rebel? And is this a rebel?” Britain, and soon all of Europe, recoiled in horror at the slaughter. One of the most renowned British war correspondents, Archibald Forbes, wrote:
“MacGahan accomplished brilliantly his mission of exposing the Turkish atrocities in Bulgaria in 1876. I know of nothing in journalism that surpasses, in language, pathos, and flaming indignation, writing that passed so spontaneously from heart to heart. His call stirred William Gladstone to a convulsive paroxysm of revulsion at the barbarities. It stirred England to the depths of her national soul. You could see people traveling on the railways reading those reports with burning faces and tears in their eyes.”
Throughout this entire dramatic period Dr. Albert Long, though remaining in Constantinople, continued – literally day and night – his efforts on behalf of the Bulgarian people. Even when, at the end of 1876 and the beginning of 1877, certain forces sabotaged the work of the Constantinople Conference of the Great Powers, which had agreed on autonomy for Bulgaria across its full ethnic territory, Dr. Long did not lose composure. He continued to seek solutions by every means available. Washburn wrote of him:
“It is a fundamental fact that, although Dr. Long kept modestly in the background, he was the center of everything that was done in Constantinople for Bulgaria during the massacres and the severe trials endured by the Bulgarians in their struggle for freedom.”
Finally, in early May 1876, just days after the outbreak of the April Uprising, a Bulgarian girl in Thessaloniki – Stefana Lanskova – was rescued from abduction intended to force her conversion to Islam. She was hidden in the home of the American consul in Thessaloniki, Hadzhi Lazarov (a Bulgarian Evangelical Christian from Voden who had taken American citizenship and service). This provoked violent unrest among fanatical Turks around Robert College in Constantinople. On May 6, 1876, Muslim extremists murdered the French and German consuls in Thessaloniki (Moulin and Abbott). The American consul, who was their primary target, survived. As unrest at Robert College intensified, ambassador Maynard appealed to President Grant for assistance who did not hesitate to dispatch an American naval squadron led by the USS Trenton to the Sea of Marmara to deter both the fanatical mobs threatening Robert College and the British naval squadron positioned at the Bosporus. It was in precisely this atmosphere that the large-scale efforts of American missionaries, journalists, and diplomats unfolded during the summer of 1876.
In s similar fashion Januarius MacGahan received assignments from the London Daily News and others to report from war zones, particularly the 1876 Bulgarian Uprising against the Ottoman Empire, where his vivid reports on atrocities. With special attention to the Batak Massacre that had shocked Europe and galvanized support for Bulgarian independence, leading to his posthumous title, “Liberator of Bulgaria.” His “orders” were to report the truth, which he did fearlessly, even following Russian armies without permission. His dispatches became crucial historical records of the conflict and Ottoman brutality over Bulgarian civilian population.
Dony K. Donev, D.Min., is a prominent researcher and author specializing in Bulgarian Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal history, with over three decades of study. His work, including 19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria and The Unforgotten: Historical and Theological Roots of Pentecostalism in Bulgaria, documents the development of these movements, their suppression under Communism, and the subsequent post-1989 revival. Key aspects of Donev’s research on Bulgarian Protestant history include:
Origins (19th Century): Protestant work began in the 1800s, with denominations like Congregationalists (1856), Methodists (1857), and Baptists (1865) establishing missions, culminating in the first Bulgarian Protestant Church in 1871. Donev also highlights the 1871 publication of the Protestant Bulgarian Bible translation. His research, often in collaboration with the Institute of Bulgarian Protestant History, has focused on preserving, digitizing, and recovering documents, including church diaries, photographs, and, in some cases, saving records from destruction during the communist era.
Azusa Street Sermons: The Precious Atonement
19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria
Dony K. Donev, D.Min., is a prominent researcher and author specializing in Bulgarian Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal history, with over three decades of study. His work, including 19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria and The Unforgotten: Historical and Theological Roots of Pentecostalism in Bulgaria, documents the development of these movements, their suppression under Communism, and the subsequent post-1989 revival.
Key aspects of Donev’s research on Bulgarian Protestant history include:
Origins (19th Century): Protestant work began in the 1800s, with denominations like Congregationalists (1856), Methodists (1857), and Baptists (1865) establishing missions, culminating in the first Bulgarian Protestant Church in 1871. Donev also highlights the 1871 publication of the Protestant Bulgarian Bible translation. His research, often in collaboration with the Institute of Bulgarian Protestant History, has focused on preserving, digitizing, and recovering documents, including church diaries, photographs, and, in some cases, saving records from destruction during the communist era.
Pentecostalism and Growth: The Unforgotten documents the arrival of the Pentecostal movement in Bulgaria, particularly through the influence of the Azusa Street Revival, tracing the roots of early Bulgarian Pentecostal families.
Post-Communist Revival: Donev has documented the rapid growth of the Protestant movement after 1989, noting a significant increase in membership from approximately 13,000 to over 100,000. Dr. Donev has published his dissertation on on Bulgarian Churches in North America.
Let the Protestant say the prayer: Protestant Participation in Bulgaria’s Liberation
A considerable number of Protestants took part in the prematurely erupted April Uprising. Many of them were in the immediate circle of Benkovski, Vasil Volóv, and the other revolutionary apostles. Some Protestants joined during the uprising itself. According to Dimitar Strashimirov, about sixty men from the village of Tserovo, in the Pazardzhik region, joined Benkovski’s detachment under the leadership of Tsvyatko Brŭshkov. At that time Tserovo had 120 households, fifteen of which belonged to Bulgarian Protestants. Two roster protocols were compiled – one larger list for the Orthodox, and a smaller one for the Protestants. The leaders of the Protestant group were K. Teliyski and Nikola Kochov. From the same village came Ivan Cheshírov, one of the “tens-men” (leaders of groups of ten) in the Flying Column. Collective memory has preserved the names of two well-known Protestants from Panagyurishte as active participants in the uprising: Stefan Balabanov, who organized the sewing of clothing for the rebels, and Rad Minev, one of the most experienced arms-bearers of the insurgent town.
Protestants were also involved in the activities of nearly all revolutionary districts. Particularly dramatic was the fate of the evangelist Stoil Findzhikov, the master craftsman of the “cherry-wood cannons,” who became a symbol of the uprising. As a youth, Stoil had worked in a military workshop in Constantinople, where he learned details of firearms manufacture. On the eve of the uprising and during its course, prompted by Volov and Benkovski, he crafted and refined several of these primitive cannons. He fired his last “cherry-wood cannon” at the advancing Ottoman forces beneath Mount Kamenitsa. Under the pressure of the attacking bashi-bozouk irregulars, the defenders fled one by one, and some fell in battle.
The evangelist Petar Donchev from Panagyurishte also took an active part in the April Uprising. During the height of the revolt, he served as a trusted courier between the surrounding towns and villages, employed by both Benkovski and Volov. “Petraki,” as the insurgents called him, displayed remarkable resourcefulness, courage, and self-sacrifice. After the uprising he departed for the United States, where he studied theology, later returning to Bulgaria as pastor in Chirpan. Yet he remained throughout his life a passionate patriot and tireless public figure. He declined every offer of praise or reward after the Liberation with the simple words that “whatever he had done, he had done for God and for the Fatherland.”
The numerological slogan “1876 – Turkey will fall” was created by the Evangelical Christian Petar Vezhinov. Serving as couriers for the Internal Revolutionary Organization were Bulgarian Evangelical preachers: Veliko Petranov from Panagyurishte; N. Boyadzhiev and N. Kochev from the Pazardzhik region; Blago Sarandov and Petar Musevich from Macedonia. The pastor from Chirpan, Petar Doichev, was entrusted with important intelligence missions. Ivan Neykov served as the personal courier of Georgi Benkovski, while V. Karaivanov from Chirpan was suspected and arrested by the Ottoman authorities. Stefan Balabanov supplied a significant portion of the revolutionary uniforms, while Rad Manev, a gunsmith, manufactured weapons for the insurgents. The design for the “Chereshovoto Topche” (Cherry Cannon) was the work of the Evangelical Christian from Panagyurishte, master Stoil Findzhikov. At the decisive assembly in Oborishte, he was asked to deliver the prayer for the blessing of the cause for Bulgaria’s liberation.
When Georgi Benkovski gathered the insurgents in Oborishte before announcing the uprising, he declared: “Let the Protestant say the prayer.” The Protestant was Stoil Findzhikov, the historical figure who became the prototype for Ivan Vazov’s vivid character Borimechkata (The Bear Slayer). According to the recollections of Findzhikov’s daughter, Radka Kaloyanova, his prayer was: “Lord God, Who created heaven and earth, Who has helped many who have put their trust in You – help us as well, gathered here today, to succeed in our endeavor.” (Bulgarian Baptist Digest, Heralds of Truth)
The Methodist Mission at the Eve of Bulgaria’s National Liberation
The history of the establishment of the first Bulgarian Protestant churches in Bansko, Merichleri, and Yambol demonstrates that the unforced engagement of Bulgarians in the creation of the first church communities was of decisive importance for the success of the evangelical mission. North of the Balkan Mountains, in the Bulgarian territories under the responsibility of the Methodist Episcopal Church, the process of establishing Bulgarian evangelical churches was significantly slower.
The first church resulting from the work of the Methodist mission was in the city of Tulcea. As early as 1860, Floken succeeded in converting a group of Molokans – a nonconformist Christian movement widespread in Russia during the 19th century – to Methodism. Subsequently, a Methodist congregation was also established in the same city among the German-speaking population. The first Bulgarian converts, however, were won over by Albert Long during his stay in Veliko Tarnovo, and later by Prettiman in Shumen. With the establishment of Methodist missionary stations in Bulgarian towns, and later with the expansion of educational activities associated with them, communities of Bulgarian followers began to form.
After Long and Prettiman withdrew to Constantinople, their efforts were continued by Gavrail Iliev, who settled in Svishtov. After a brief stay there, he began attracting followers, taking every opportunity to travel and preach in other settlements as well.
In 1865, Methodist Bishop Thompson visited the mission and, accompanied by Long, traveled to Tulcea and Svishtov. At the time of this visit, Gavrail Iliev was already serving a group of fifteen individuals who attended his meetings. Encouraged by the success in Tulcea and Svishtov, Bishop Thompson promised to send three new preachers to Tarnovo, Shumen, and Ruse; however, this expansion never materialized.
In 1870, Floken left a replacement from the ranks of Russian Methodists in Tulcea and went to undertake evangelistic work in Ruse. Hostile and aggressive attitudes from some locals in Ruse compelled Floken to depart for America in 1871. In 1872, Long undertook a new tour of Northern Bulgaria and noted the growth of the Methodist work in the Russian Methodist Church in Tulcea and in the congregation led by Gavrail Iliev in Svishtov.
In 1874, Floken returned to Ruse and began theological courses. Among the attendees was Stefan Genchev from Lovech, who was later sent to preach in his hometown, while Gavrail Krastev moved from Svishtov to Pleven. This marked the first significant expansion of Methodist ministry. Some graduates of the Ruse course began serving as traveling booksellers.
That same year, Bulgaria was visited by Harris, the new Methodist bishop responsible for the mission. Following this visit, Pastor Lansbury was permanently assigned to Svishtov and Pastor Chalis to Ruse. The latter’s wife, a physician, provided selfless service to the people of Ruse, removing many obstacles to the spread of the gospel in the city.
In 1876, the first annual conference of the Methodist Church in Bulgaria was held in Ruse. By that time, Methodist ministries among Bulgarians had been established in Svishtov, Ruse, Lovech, Pleven, Orhanie (today Botevgrad), Vidin, and Lom, as well as in numerous smaller settlements (e.g., Aidemir in the Silistra region, among others). Alongside the Methodist missionaries, Bulgarians such as G. Iliev, N. Voynov, Y. Tsvetkov, T. Nachev, T. Nikolov, and Y. Dzhumaliev were active. Despite the considerable spread of ministry and impressive supportive activities, including the establishment of schools, the total number of Bulgarians converted to the evangelical faith through the Methodist mission remained relatively small – approximately one hundred people.
Several factors account for this outcome. First, Methodist missionaries were far less committed to evangelistic activity compared with the missionaries in Southern Bulgaria. Practically, the mission’s success was largely the result of the persistence of Floken and Gavrail Iliev, supported by Dr. Long from a considerable distance. The mission devoted tremendous effort to educational and charitable work, yet this did not engage Bulgarians fully in the evangelical community. The comparatively conservative hierarchical structure of the church likely played a role, in contrast to the congregational churches of Southern Bulgaria, where the very nature of the church relied on the self-governance of Bulgarian evangelical congregations. While evangelical churches in Southern Bulgaria elected their leadership, collectively made important decisions, and actively participated in community building, the Methodists in the north largely remained in the shadow of the initiatives of official church personnel.
Methodist missionaries were far less successful in engaging Bulgarians in church life. Although the missionaries themselves acted as benefactors to many, the Methodist Church was considerably less effective than the Congregationalist Church in attracting Bulgarians to full membership. A substantial portion of Bulgarians who encountered the evangelical message and benefited from the service of Methodist missionaries never took the decisive step of formally joining the Methodist Church.
Dony K. Donev, D.Min., is a prominent researcher and author specializing in Bulgarian Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal history, with over three decades of study. His work, including 19th Century History of Protestantism in Bulgaria and The Unforgotten: Historical and Theological Roots of Pentecostalism in Bulgaria, documents the development of these movements, their suppression under Communism, and the subsequent post-1989 revival.
Key aspects of Donev’s research on Bulgarian Protestant history include:
Origins (19th Century): Protestant work began in the 1800s, with denominations like Congregationalists (1856), Methodists (1857), and Baptists (1865) establishing missions, culminating in the first Bulgarian Protestant Church in 1871. Donev also highlights the 1871 publication of the Protestant Bulgarian Bible translation. His research, often in collaboration with the Institute of Bulgarian Protestant History, has focused on preserving, digitizing, and recovering documents, including church diaries, photographs, and, in some cases, saving records from destruction during the communist era.
Pentecostalism and Growth: The Unforgotten documents the arrival of the Pentecostal movement in Bulgaria, particularly through the influence of the Azusa Street Revival, tracing the roots of early Bulgarian Pentecostal families.
Post-Communist Revival: Donev has documented the rapid growth of the Protestant movement after 1989, noting a significant increase in membership from approximately 13,000 to over 100,000. Dr. Donev has published his dissertation on on Bulgarian Churches in North America.
