The Red Book of Hergest contains the herbal attributed to the Physicians of Myddfai. However, it doesn't contain the legend of their origins, which is featured below. It is from the 1861 edition of The Physicians of Myddfai published by the Welsh Manuscript Society, and currently published by Llanerch Press.
When
the eventful struggle made by the Princes of South Wales to preserve the
independence of their country was drawing to its close in the twelfth century,
there lived at Blaensawdde near Llanddeusant, Carmarthenshire, a widowed woman,
the relict of a farmer who had fallen in those disastrous troubles.
The widow had an only son to bring up, but Providence smiled upon her, and
despite her forlorn condition, her live stock had so increased in course of
time, that she could not well depasture them upon her farm, so she sent a
portion of her cattle to graze on the adjoining Black Mountain, and their most
favourite place was near the small lake called Llyn y Fan Fach, on the
north-western side of the Carmarthenshire Fans.
The son grew up to manhood, and was generally sent by his mother to look after
the cattle on the mountain. One day, in his peregrinations along the margin of
the lake, to his great astonishment, he beheld, sitting on the unruffled surface
of the water, a lady; one of the most beautiful creatures that mortal eyes ever
beheld, her hair flowed gracefully in ringlets over her shoulders, the tresses
of which she arranged with a comb, whilst the glassy surface of her watery couch
served for the purpose of a mirror, reflecting back her own image. Suddenly she
beheld the young man standing on the brink of the lake, with his eyes riveted on
her, and unconsciously offering to herself the provision of barley bread and
cheese with which he had been provided when he left his home.
Bewildered by a feeling of love and admiration for the object before him, he
continued to hold out his hand towards the lady, who imperceptibly glided near
to him, but gently refused the offer of his provisions.
He attempted to touch her, but she eluded his grasp, saying--
Hard
baked is thy bread!
'Tis not easy to catch me;
and
immediately dived under the water and disappeared, leaving the love-stricken
youth to return home, a prey to disappointment and regret that he had been
unable to make further acquaintance with one, in comparison with whom the whole
of the fair maidens of Llanddeusant and Myddfai whom he had ever seen were as
nothing.
On his return home the young man communicated to his mother the extraordinary
vision he had beheld. She advised him to take some unbaked dough or
"toes" the next time in his pocket, as there must have been some spell
connected with the hard-baked bread, or "Bara cras," which prevented
his catching the lady.
Next morning, before the sun had gilded with its rays the peaks of the Fans, the
young man was at the lake, not for the purpose of looking after his mother's
cattle, but seeking for the same enchanting vision he had witnessed the day
before; but all in vain did he anxiously strain his eyeballs and glance over the
surface of the lake, as only the ripples occasioned by a stiff breeze met his
view, and a cloud hung heavily on the summit of the Fan, which imparted an
additional gloom to his already distracted mind.
Hours passed on, the wind was hushed, and the clouds which had enveloped the
mountain had vanished into thin air before the powerful beams of the sun, when
the youth was startled by seeing some of his mother's cattle on the precipitous
side of the acclivity, nearly on the opposite side of the lake. His duty
impelled him to attempt to rescue them from their perilous position, for which
purpose he was hastening away, when, to his inexpressible delight, the object of
his search again appeared to him as before, and seemed much more beautiful than
when he first beheld her. His hand was again held out to her, full of unbaked
bread, which he offered with an urgent proffer of his heart also, and vows of
eternal attachment. All of which were refused by her, saying--
Unbaked
is thy bread!
I will not have thee.
But
the smiles that played upon her features as the lady vanished beneath the waters
raised within the young man a hope that forbade him to despair by her refusal of
him, and the recollection of which cheered him on his way home. His aged parent
was made acquainted with his ill-success, and she suggested that his bread
should next time be but slightly baked, as most likely to please the mysterious
being of whom he had become enamoured.
Impelled by an irresistible feeling, the youth left his mother's house early
next morning, and with rapid steps he passed over the mountain. He was soon near
the margin of the lake, and with all the impatience of an ardent lover did he
wait with a feverish anxiety for the reappearance of the mysterious lady.
The sheep and goats browsed on the precipitous sides of the Fan; the cattle
strayed amongst the rocks and large stones, some of which were occasionally
loosened from their beds and suddenly rolled down into the lake; rain and
sunshine alike came and passed away; but all were unheeded by the youth, so
wrapped up was he in looking for the appearance of the lady.
The freshness of the early morning had disappeared before the sultry rays of the
noon-day sun, which in its turn was fast verging towards the west as the evening
was dying away and making room for the shades of night, and hope had well-nigh
abated of beholding once more the Lady of the Lake. The young man cast a sad and
last farewell look over the waters, and, to his astonishment, beheld several
cows walking along its surface. The sight of these animals caused hope to revive
that they would be followed by another object far more pleasing; nor was he
disappointed, for the maiden reappeared, and to his enraptured sight, even
lovelier than ever. She approached the land, and he rushed to meet her in the
water. A smile encouraged him to seize her hand; neither did she refuse the
moderately baked bread he offered her; and after some persuasion she consented
to become his bride, on condition that they should only live together until she
received from him three blows without a cause,
Tri
ergyá diachos.
Three causeless blows.
And
if he ever should happen to strike her three such blows she would leave him for
ever. To such conditions he readily consented, and would have consented to any
other stipulation, had it been proposed, as he was only intent on then securing
such a lovely creature for his wife.
Thus the Lady of the Lake engaged to become the young man's wife, and having
loosed her hand for a moment she darted away and dived into the lake. His
chagrin and grief were such that he determined to cast himself headlong into the
deepest water, so as to end his life in the element that had contained in its
unfathomed, depths the only one for whom he cared to live on earth. As he was on
the point of committing this rash act, there emerged out of the lake two most
beautiful ladies, accompanied by a hoary-headed man of noble mien and
extraordinary stature, but having otherwise all the force and strength of youth.
This man addressed the almost bewildered youth in accents calculated to soothe
his troubled mind, saying that as he proposed to marry one of his daughters, he
consented to the union, provided the young man could distinguish which of the
two ladies before him was the object of his affections. This was no easy task,
as the maidens were such perfect counterparts of each other that it seemed quite
impossible for him to choose his bride, and if perchance he fixed upon the wrong
one all would be for ever lost.
Whilst the young man narrowly scanned the two ladies, he could not perceive the
least difference betwixt the two, and was almost giving up the task in despair,
when one of them thrust her foot a slight degree forward. The motion, simple as
it was, did not escape the observation of the youth, and he discovered a
trifling variation in the mode with which their sandals were tied. This at once
put an end to the dilemma, for he, who had on previous occasions been so taken
up with the general appearance of the Lady of the Lake, had also noticed the
beauty of her feet and ankles, and on now recognizing the peculiarity of her
shoe-tie he boldly took hold of her hand.
"Thou hast chosen rightly," said her father; "be to her a kind
and faithful husband, and I will give her, as a dowry, as many sheep, cattle,
goats, and horses as she can count of each without heaving or drawing in her
breath. But remember, that if you prove unkind to her at any time, and strike
her three times without a cause, she shall return to me, and shall bring all her
stock back with her."
Such was the verbal marriage settlement, to which the young man gladly assented,
and his bride was desired to count the number of sheep she was to have. She
immediately adopted the mode of counting by fives, thus:--One, two, three, four,
five--One, two, three, four, five; as many times as possible in rapid
succession, till her breath was exhausted. The same process of reckoning had to
determine the number of goats, cattle, and horses respectively; and in an
instant the full number of each came out of the lake when called upon by the
father.
The young couple were then married, by what ceremony was not stated, and
afterwards went to reside at a farm called Esgair Llaethdy, somewhat more than a
mile from the village of Myddfai, where they lived in prosperity and happiness
for several years, and became the parents of three sons, who were beautiful
children.
Once upon a time there was a christening to take place in the neighbourhood, to
which the parents were specially invited. When the day arrived the wife appeared
very reluctant to attend the christening, alleging that the distance was too
great for her to walk. Her husband told her to fetch one of the horses which
were grazing in an adjoining field. "I will," said she, "if you
will bring me my gloves which I left in our house." He went to the house
and returned with the gloves, and finding that she had not gone for the horse
jocularly slapped her shoulder with one of them, saying, "go! go!",
when she reminded him of the understanding upon which she consented to marry
him:--That he was not to strike her without a cause; and warned him to be more
cautious for the future.
On another occasion, when they were together at a wedding, in the midst of the
mirth and hilarity of the assembled guests, who had gathered together from all
the surrounding country, she burst into tears and sobbed most piteously. Her
husband touched her on her shoulder and inquired the cause of her weeping: she
said, "Now people are entering into trouble, and your troubles are likely
to commence, as you have the second time stricken me without a cause."
Years passed on, and their children had grown up, and were particularly clever
young men. In the midst of so many worldly blessings at home the husband almost
forgot that there remained only one causeless blow to be given to destroy the
whole of his prosperity. Still he was watchful lest any trivial occurrence
should take place which his wife must regard as a breach of their marriage
contract. She told him, as her affection for him was unabated, to be careful
that he would not, through some inadvertence, give the last and only blow,
which, by an unalterable destiny, over which she had no control, would separate
them for ever.
It, however, so happened that one day they were together at a funeral, where, in
the midst of the mourning and grief at the house of the deceased, she appeared
in the highest and gayest spirits, and indulged in immoderate fits of laughter,
which so shocked her husband that he touched her, saying, "Hush! hush!
don't laugh." She said that she laughed "because people when they die
go out of trouble," and, rising up, she went out of the house, saying,
"The last blow has been struck, our marriage contract is broken, and at an
end! Farewell !" Then she started off towards Esgair Llaethdy, where she
called her cattle and other stock together, each by name. The cattle she called
thus:--
Brindled
cow, white speckled,
Spotted cow, bold freckled,
The four field sward mottled,
The old white-faced,
And the grey Geingen,
With the white Bull,
From the court of the King;
And the little black calf
Tho' suspended on the hook,
Come thou also, quite well home!
They all immediately obeyed the summons of their mistress. The "little black calf," although it had been slaughtered, became alive again, and walked off with the rest of the stock at the command of the lady. This happened in the spring of the year, and there were four oxen ploughing in one of the fields; to these she cried:--
The
four grey oxen,
That are on the field,
Come you also
Quite well home!
Away the whole of the live stock went with the Lady across Myddfai Mountain,
towards the lake from whence they came, a distance of above six miles, where
they disappeared beneath its waters, leaving no trace behind except a
well-marked furrow, which was made by the plough the oxen drew after them into
the lake, and which remains to this day as a testimony to the truth of this
story.
What became of the affrighted ploughman--whether he was left on the field when
the oxen set off, or whether he followed them to the lake, has not been handed
down to tradition; neither has the fate of the disconsolate and half-ruined
husband been kept in remembrance. But of the sons it is stated that they often
wandered about the lake and its vicinity, hoping that their mother might be
permitted to visit the face of the earth once more, as they had been apprised of
her mysterious origin, her first appearance to their father, and the untoward
circumstances which so unhappily deprived them of her maternal care.
In one of their rambles, at a place near Dôl Howel, at the Mountain Gate, still
called "Llidiad y Meddygon," The Physicians' Gate, the mother appeared
suddenly, and accosted her eldest son, whose name was Rhiwallon, and told him
that his mission on earth was to be a benefactor to mankind by relieving them
from pain and misery, through healing all manner of their diseases; for which
purpose she furnished him with a bag full of medical prescriptions and
instructions for the preservation of health. That by strict attention thereto he
and his family would become for many generations the most skilful physicians in
the country. Then, promising to meet him when her counsel was most needed, she
vanished. But on several occasions she met her sons near the banks of the lake,
and once she even accompanied them on their return home as far as a place still
called "Pant-y-Meddygon," The dingle of the Physicians, where she
pointed out to them the various plants and herbs which grew in the dingle, and
revealed to them their medicinal qualities or virtues; and the knowledge she
imparted to them, together with their unrivalled skill, soon caused them to
attain such celebrity that none ever possessed before them. And in order that
their knowledge should not be lost, they wisely committed the same to writing,
for the benefit of mankind throughout all ages.'
And so ends the story of the Physicians of Myddfai, which has been handed down
from one generation to another, thus:-
The
grey old man in the corner
Of his father heard a story,
Which from his father he had heard,
And after them I have remembered.