, three of
the "sept peches capitaux" are represented; but after these comes a
national subject: a man playing on the bagpipe. The figures throughout the
rood-screen are all boldly executed, and the tracery most elegant and
delicate.
The painted glass in the church is considerable, and represents the Life
of Our Saviour, that of St. Fiacre, the Feast of Herod, and the Martyrdom
of the Baptist, figures of the Prophets of the Old Testament, with many
others. In most of the subjects, the figures are much mutilated. On one
window is inscribed, "Pierre Androuet ouvrier demeurant a Kemperle 1552."
Over one altar is a sculpture, representing the Martyrdom of Saint
Sebastian, between two archers, in the quaint costume of the sixteenth
century.
About six miles from Le Faouet, is the ruined castle of Poncallec, with
its forest, etang, and forge; once the demesne of the young marquis of
that name, who was implicated in that conspiracy to transfer the Regency
from the Duke of Orleans to Philip V. of Spain, called the plot of
Cellamare. Of the hundred and forty-eight gentlemen included in the
accusation, all escaped to Spain, except Poncallec and three others.
Poncallec refused to accompany them from a superstitious fear, a
fortune-teller having foretold he should perish by the sea, "par la mer."
They took refuge in a church, but were surprised by a party of cavaliers
who had muffled the feet of their horses to reach them unheard. They
escaped through a subterranean passage, and, for fifteen days, lay
concealed in the hollow of a yew-tree, fed in secret by faithful peasants.
Poncallec traversed France in the disguise of a priest, but was arrested
at the Pyrenees. He with the three others were all convicted of high
treason, and, a few hours after their condemnation, were beheaded at
Nantes. Poncallec was the last to suffer. When ascending the scaffold, he
asked the executioner his name; on his answering "La Mer," Poncallec felt
the witch's prophecy was fulfilled.
The estates of the four victims were confiscated, their arms effaced from
the fronts of their houses, the moats of their castles filled in, and
their trees (hautes futaies) cut down, "a hauteur d'infamie," that is,
within nine feet of the ground, in like manner as were those of Moor Park,
after the execution of the Duke of Monmouth. A list was presented to the
Regent Philip of other offenders, but he tore the paper, and published an
amnesty. The story of Poncallec is d
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