On Thursday, October 27, at ten o'clock, all was ready. The witnesses and a great company were assembled; and they proceeded from the Deanery through the cloister. First came the gentlemen in waiting; then the knights in their places; the barons and earls in their degree. Then the godfather—none other than that famous and brilliant personage, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, the only man whom the great Queen Elizabeth really loved—her cousin, "Sweet Robin." If you ever come to Warwickshire go to Kenilworth Castle, and see the remains of the grand Hall where he received the queen with more than royal state at three different times. Then go to Warwick, and see his effigy in the Beauchamp Chapel, lying beside his third wife, whom he married after poor Amy Robsart's death.
Look at the Earl's handsome proud face; and then picture him to yourselves as he walked through the cloisters and into the noble Abbey, magnificent in dress and bearing, in the heydey of his youth, splendor and prosperity at little Bess Russell's christening. After the godfather came the unconscious baby—the centre of all this display—wrapped
in a mantle of crimson velvet, guarded with two wrought laces of gold, having also over the face a lawn, striped with bone lace of gold athwart, and powdered with gold flowers and white wrought thereon.
She was carried by the nurse, Mrs. Bradshaw. Her second godmother, the Countess of Sussex—Frances Sidney, aunt of Sir Philip Sidney, and foundress of Sidney-Sussex College at Cambridge, followed her. Then a gentleman usher. And then the Countess of Warwick, deputy for the queen. Her train was borne by Lady Russell's two sisters, Lady Burleigh and Lady Bacon; and after them came "other ladies and gentlemen, many."
The deputy went within the traverse, the rest remaining without, while the Dean made a short address. After it was over
Lady Bacon took the child and brought it to the font, where the Dean attended in his surplice. Then the Earl Leicester approached near to the traverse, and there tarried until the deputy came forth, from whence they leisurely proceeded to the font, the deputy's train still borne, where she christened the child by the name of Elizabeth; which done the deputy retired back into the traverse again, and the nurse took the child, and came down, and there dressed it.
Now comes one of the most impressive and picturesque episodes in the story.
The account says—
In the meantime, Mr. Philip Sidney came out of the Chapel called St. Edward's shrine having a towel on his left shoulder, and with him came Mr. Delves, bearing the basin and ewer. Then the deputy came forth, her train borne, and they two kneeling, she washed.