The assembly shouted:
“Axios!—He is worthy.”
The pope was then enthroned on the barrels. Just above his head hung a small silver Bacchus astride of a cask. Bending it towards himself the pope conveniently could draw brandy either into his glass or straight into his mouth.
Not only the members of the convocation but all the other guests approached His Holiness in their turn. They bowed low before him and received, instead of a blessing, a blow on their head with a pig’s bladder soaked in brandy, and then partook of the pepper brandy offered in a huge wooden spoon.
The priests chanted:—
“O most honourable father Bacchus, born of the burnt Semele, reared in Jupiter’s thigh, dispenser of the joys of the Vine! We call on thee in the company of all this most drunken assembly. Multiply and direct the steps of this world-wide-ruling prince-pope so that he may walk in thy ways. And thou, most glorious Venus——”
Here followed obscene adjurations.
At last the guests sat down to table. Opposite the prince-pope sat the real chief ecclesiastic; Feofan Prokopovitch had taken his place, Peter next to him, then Theodosius; Alexis sat opposite the Tsar his father.
The Tsar began talking over with Feofan the news which had just reached them of the thousands of Raskolniks who had burnt themselves alive in the forests of Kerjenetz and Tchernoramensk, near the Volga. The drunken songs and shouts of the buffoons hindered the conversation.