Not that when even the mediaeval peasant set up his May-pole at the approach of summer or drove his cattle through the bonfire on Midsummer eve, the real character of his act was at all explicit in his consciousness. To him, as to his descendant of to-day, the festival was at once a practice sanctioned by tradition and the rare amusement of a strenuous life: it was not, save perhaps in some unplumbed recesses of his being, anything more definitely sacred. At most it was held to be ‘for luck,’ and in some vague general way, to the interest of a fruitful year in field and fold. The scientific anthropologist, however, from his very different point of view, cannot regard the conversion to Christianity as a complete solution of continuity in the spiritual and social life of western Europe. This conversion, indeed, was clearly a much slower and more incomplete process than the ecclesiastical chroniclers quite plainly state. It was so even on the shores of the Mediterranean. But there the triumph of Christianity began from below. Long before the edict of Milan, the new religion, in spite of persecutions, had got its firm hold upon the masses of the great cities of the Empire. And when, less than a century later, Theodosius made the public profession of any other faith a crime, he was but formally acknowledging a _chose jugée_. But even in these lands of the first ardour the old beliefs and, above all, the old rituals died hard. Lingering unacknowledged in the country, the pagan, districts, they passed silently into the dim realm of folk-lore. How could this but be more so when Christianity came with the missionaries of Rome or of Iona to the peoples of the West? For with them conversion was hardly a spontaneous, an individual thing. As a rule, the baptism of the king was the starting-point and motive for that of his followers: and the bulk of the people adopted wonderingly an alien cult in an alien tongue imposed upon them by the will of their rulers. Such a Christianity could at best be only nominal. Ancient beliefs are not so easily surrendered: nor are habits and instincts, deep-rooted in the lives of a folk, thus lightly laid down for ever, at the word of a king. The churches of the West had, therefore, to dispose somehow of a vast body of practical heathenism surviving in all essentials beneath a new faith which was but skin-deep. The conflict which followed is faintly adumbrated in the pages of Bede: something more may be guessed of its fortunes by a comparison of the customs and superstitions recorded in early documents of church discipline with those which, after all, the peasantry long retained, or even now retain.