was done. A CMS missionary, the Reverend C. A. Gollmer, commented: 'I look upon it as God's intervention for the good of Africa.’ Two years later, Gollmer instigated another naval attack, this time on the jebu tribe. Vessels like HMS Scourge were repeatedly used on the coast and river to frighten chiefs into complying with missionary demands to operate freely. Local bylaws soon reflected the needs of Christian evangelism. Thus Greek Town legislated for the Sabbath: 'Henceforth, on God's day, no market to be held in any part of Greek Town territory; no sale of strong drink, either native or imported, in doors and verandahs: no work: no play; no devil making; no firing of guns; no Egbo processions; no Palaver.' From this it was a short Step to the permanent deposition of kings and the assumption of all executive power in the hands of white officials. On the other hand, as experience in both Central and East Africa showed, without European rule, one of two things was likely to happen. The missionaries nearly always found a demand for Christian teaching. Many of the Africans were looking for a new and less primitive religion, and for a refuge from the often appalling cruelties of cults centered on tyrannical chiefs. It was comparatively easy for missionaries, even in territories where Europeans exercised no direct power, to set up new Christian villages, thus falling into a form of evangelization with strong social and political (and indeed economic) implications. They then rapidly found themselves becoming defacto chieftains. Dan Crawford, in a thoughtful survey of mission problems called Thinking Black (1912), wrote: 'Many a little Protestant pope in the lonely bush is forced by his self-imposed isolation to be prophet, priest and king rolled into one.’ He himself founded a new inter-Christian tribal city (he was a Plymouth Brother) and was known to the Africans as konga vantu, ‘the gatherer of the peoples’. The alternative, which was worse, was for the missionaries to become, as it were, agents of powerful kings whom they could not control or even influence. Discussing the local tyrant in Katanga, an English vice-consul reported in 1890: 'The missionaries treat Msidi as a great king, do nothing without first asking his permission, and are at his beck and call, almost his slave. ... They dared not come to see me on my arrival for several days, because Msidi told them not to come. They live like natives, on corn porridge, and occasionally stinking meat.' Msidi was eventually shot by British mercenaries in the Belgian service, and Crawford complained: 'The stupid and mischievous notion has got currency that since Msidi's death we are the chiefs of the country.’ Mischievous, yes; but scarcely Stupid, since Africans were often right to associate the downfall of their kingship with the coming of the missionaries. This was also, perhaps especially, true when kings tried to preserve their independence by playing off one faith against another. It became a possible tactic as the nineteenth century progressed, and the Catholics once again became active in the missionary field. By 1815, the Catholic missions had been virtually extinguished; they had only 270 field-workers in the entire world. The recovery was due not so much to the restoration of the Jesuits in 1814 as to the emergence of popular French ultramontanism, and its close alliance with a reinvigorated papacy. New mission orders were founded: the Oblates of Mary Immaculate in 1816, the Marists in 1817, the Salesians in 1859, the Scheut Fathers in 1862, the White Fathers in 1868. French diplomacy pushed missionary work far more ardently than any other major power - French missionaries in China, for instance, were provided with special diplomatic passports - and the growth, from the 1820s, of a huge French African empire provided a natural field of endeavor. France did not hesitate to back up missions with force. It was attacks on missionaries which led to Napoleon III'S Indo-China expedition of 1862, and in 1885 to the occupation by France of the entire country; and in North and Central Africa, missionaries, most of whom had served in the French army, worked closely with the military commanders, nearly all of them bien-pensant Catholics. Moreover, in Charles Lavigerie, Bishop of Nancy at the age of thirty-eight, and later CardinalArchbishop of Algiers, French colonialism found an enthusiastic spiritual leader, and the Vatican a superb international propagandist. Lavigerie was a flamboyant French patriot from Bayonne, a region where the Callie Spirit was forged in fierce combat with Basque nationalism. He was a Frenchman first, an Pe