I know not if any whom I now have the honor of addressing have thought to recall the great in rank and power filling the gaze of the world as the Mayflower with her company fared forth on their venturous voyage. The foolish James was yet on the English throne, glorying that he had “soundly peppered off the Puritans.”[236] The morose Louis the Thirteenth, through whom Richelieu ruled, was King of France. The imbecile Philip the Third swayed Spain and the Indies. The persecuting Ferdinand the Second, tormentor of Protestants, was Emperor of Germany. Paul the Fifth, of the House of Borghese, was Pope of Rome. In the same princely company, and all contemporaries, were Christian the Fourth, King of Denmark, and his son Christian, Prince of Norway; Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden; Sigismund the Third, King of Poland; Frederick, King of Bohemia, with his wife, the unhappy Elizabeth of England, progenitor of the House of Hanover; George William, Margrave of Brandenburg, and ancestor of the Prussian house that has given an emperor to Germany; Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria; Maurice, Landgrave of Hesse; Christian, Duke of Brunswick and Luneburg; John Frederick, Duke of Würtemberg and Teck; John, Count of Nassau; Henry, Duke of Lorraine; Albert, Archduke of Austria, and his wife Isabella, Infanta of Spain, joint rulers of the Low Countries; Maurice, fourth Prince of Orange, of the House of Nassau; Charles Emanuel, Duke of Savoy, and ancestor of the King of United Italy; Cosmo de’ Medici, fourth Grand Duke of Tuscany; Antonio Priuli, ninety-fifth Doge of Venice, just after the terrible tragedy commemorated on the English stage as “Venice Preserved”; Bethlen Gabor, Prince of Unitarian Transylvania, and elected King of Hungary with the countenance of an African; and the Sultan Osman the Second, of Constantinople, eighteenth ruler of the Turks. Such at that time were the crowned sovereigns of Europe, whose names were mentioned always with awe, and whose countenances are handed down by Art, so that at this day they are visible to the curious as if they walked these streets. Mark now the contrast. There was no artist for our forefathers, nor are their countenances now known to men; but more than any powerful contemporaries at whose tread the earth trembled is their memory sacred. (_Applause._) Pope, emperor, king, sultan, grand-duke, duke, doge, margrave, landgrave, count,--what are they all by the side of the humble company that landed on Plymouth Rock? Theirs, indeed, were the ensigns of worldly power; but our Pilgrims had in themselves that inborn virtue which was more than all else besides, and their landing was an epoch.