versions. That by this one detail, of capital importance, they
approve themselves as literary treatments of a traditional theme,
the true meaning of which was unknown to the author?

Let us for a moment consider what the opposite view would entail;
that a story which was originally the outcome of pure literary invention
should in the course of re-modelling have been accidentally brought
into close and detailed correspondence with a deeply rooted sequence
of popular faith and practice is simply inconceivable, the
re-modelling, if re-modelling there were, must have been intentional,
the men whose handiwork it was were in possession of the requisite
knowledge.

But how did they possess that knowledge, and why should they undertake
such a task? Surely not from the point of view of antiquarian
interest, as might be done to-day; they were no twelfth century
Frazers and Mannhardts; the subject must have had for them a more
living, a more intimate, interest. And if, in face of the evidence we
now possess, we feel bound to admit the existence of such knowledge,
is it not more reasonable to suppose that the men who first told the
story were the men who knew, and that the confusion was due to those
who, with more literary skill, but less first-hand information,
re-modelled the original theme?

In view of the present facts I would submit that the problem posed in
our first chapter may be held to be solved; that we accept as a fait
acquis the conclusion that the woes of the land are directly dependent
upon the sickness, or maiming, of the King, and in no wise caused by
the failure of the Quester. The 'Wasting of the land' must be held to
have been antecedent to that failure, and the Gawain versions in which