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Chap. XXXIII. RESIDENCE OF THE SCHEELS. 67
Here hangs, mounted on his white horse, the portrait
of Count Jørgen Scheel, 1740, minister to the Court of
the Empress of All the Russias in the last century, one
of the handsomest men of his day; at least the
Empress Catherine appears to have been of this opinion,
for with her he was in great favour, so much so as
to excite the jealousy of the favourite, Orloff, by
whose artifices he is said to have died poisoned at
St. Petersburg. We then climbed the corkscrew
tower to the rooms above. Long corridors hung with
portraits: Christian IV. and other worthies, royal and of
gentle blood, sadly in want of restoration. Such black
wood, brass-bound chests stand ranged along the passages,
full, may be, of the faded dresses of the originals of the
pictures which cover the walls. Can’t you imagine the
velvet doublets and guipure-trimmed farthingales
contained in such a tapestry-hung chamber ? Grim knights
and most prim ladies frown down upon you from their
frames. Old beds of needlework (prodigies of patience
and bad perspective, topped by stumpy panaches of
discoloured feathers), handiwork of some former countess
and her ladies; old mirrors, old toilets, powder and
pomade boxes, tables covered with old Dutch tiles, &c.
“ Surely there must be a ghost-chamber here ? ” we
inquired. There was once a ghost who haunted one of
the largest rooms in the castle, fitted with two beds
—no one will, however, sleep there, and it is now a
lumber-room.
We must positively stay to tea. Seven miles Danish
on to Mariager before nightfall. We hesitate, but it is
all prepared, so we accept. A Jutlander would feel
wretched if you quitted his house without breaking
your fast. Tired of inquiring how many cows people
F 2
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