tany, and once a year, on the last Sunday of June, pilgrims arrive
at Le Faouet to celebrate her festival. Each, as he passes the
belfry which stands beside the path, pulls the bell-rope, and the
young men make the tour of a small neighbouring chapel, dedicated to
St Michel, Lord of Heights. Then they drink of a little fountain
near at hand and purchase amulets, which are supposed to be a
preservative against sudden death and which are known as 'Couronnes
de Ste Barbe.' St Barbe is said to have been the daughter of a pagan
father, and to have been so beautiful that he shut her up in a tower
and permitted no one to go near her. She succeeded, however, in
communicating with the outer world, and sent a letter to Origen of
Alexandria, entreating him to instruct her in the Christian faith, as
she had ceased to believe in the gods of her fathers. Origen
dispatched one of his monks to her, and under his guidance she
became a Christian. She was called upon to suffer for her faith, for
she was brought before the Gallo-Roman proconsul, and, since she
refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods, was savagely maltreated, and
sentenced to be beaten as she walked naked through the streets;
but she raised her eyes to heaven and a cloud descended and hid her
from the gaze of the impious mortals who would otherwise have
witnessed her martyrdom. Subsequently she was spirited away to the
top of a mountain, where, however, her presence was betrayed by a
shepherd. Her pagan father, learning of her hiding-place, quickly
ascended the height and beheaded her with his own hand. The legends
of St Barbe abound in strange details, which are more intelligible
if we regard the Saint as being the survival of some elemental
goddess connected with fire. The vengeance of heaven descended upon
her enemies, for both her father and the shepherd who betrayed her
were destroyed, the former being struck by lightning on his
descent from the mountain, and the latter being turned into marble.

The legend of the foundation of the chapel at Le Faouet is illustrative
of the strange powers of this saint. A Lord of Toulboudou, near
Guemene, was overtaken by a severe thunderstorm while hunting. No
shelter was available, and as the storm increased in fury the huntsmen
trembled for their lives, and doubtless repeated with much fervour
the old Breton charm:

Sainte Barbe et sainte Claire,
Preservez-moi du tonnerre,
Si le tonnerre tombe
Qu'il ne tombe pas sur moi