It is in the second Pointed Gothic style, and is built of a mixture of granite and dark Kersanton stone.  The tone is singularly beautiful, and harmonises well with the dreary plain.  It is at once sombre, dignified and impressive, relieved by great richness of sculpture.  Kersanton stone lends itself to carving, as we have seen, and here many parts will be found in perfect preservation.  Some of the rich mouldings in the doorways have worn away, and some of the small statues have been mutilated by time or have altogether disappeared, but the tone chiefly marks the age of the church.  This is not always the case, and even not generally, with the buildings for which Kersanton stone has been used; but le Folgoet is exposed to the elements which sweep across the dreary plain without resistance; these have done their kindly work, and given to the old walls a beauty that no mortal hand could fashion.

We stood before it in mute admiration, having expected much, but finding far more.  The tall trees near it bent and murmured to the fierce blast that blew, as if they, too, would add their homage to the charm of the sacred edifice.

Its solitary spire rose to a height of one hundred and sixty feet, full of grace and elegance.  Every portion of the exterior bore minute inspection, it was so elaborately sculptured, so well preserved.  Time has spared it more than the hand of man.

The towers are unequal.  The higher possesses the exquisite open spire, a landmark for all the country round.  The other is crowned by a small Renaissance lantern and roof, the work of the Duchess Anne.  The beautiful west portal is no longer perfect.  Its porch or canopy fell in 1824, and has never been replaced; and better so.  The porch of the south doorway is large, and so magnificent that it alone would be worth a pilgrimage.  It is called the Apostles’ porch, and is also supposed to have been the work of the good Duchess.  Not far from it are the remains of what must have been a very lovely cross.  The carving of the porch is of great delicacy and refinement; and, less exposed to the elements than the west doorway, is in far better preservation.  Here are graceful scrolls and mouldings of vine leaves and other devices curiously interwoven; the leaves so minutely carved that you may trace their veins and fringes.  The arms of Brittany and France are also cunningly intertwined.  Round the west doorway are wreaths of vines and thistles, with birds and serpents introduced amongst fruit and flowers.  Above the doorway is an elaborate sculpture of the Nativity and the Adoration of the Magi.  Joseph is represented—­it is often the case in Breton carvings—­as a Breton peasant, wearing the clumsy wooden shoes of the country.  He would have found himself somewhat embarrassed in them when crossing the desert.  But the Bretons, behind the rest of the world, had no ideas beyond those that came to them from practical experience, and the picturesque dignity of an Eastern dress was far beyond their imagination.  The centre pier of the doorway is formed into a niche enclosing the basin for holy water, protected by a carved canopy of great beauty; but time and exposure have worn away much of the sharpness of the work.