of the victory which he has
obtained, and more are coming in. His strength, in fact, is growing
greater and greater every day; and it is better for us to make peace
with him now, on the honorable terms which he proposes to us, rather
than to risk another battle, which may lead to the most disastrous
consequences."

In the midst of this discussion, an aged senator, who had been for a
long time incapacitated by his years and infirmities from appearing in
his seat, was seen coming to the assembly, supported and led by his
sons and sons-in-law, who were making way for him in the passages and
conducting him in. His name was Appius Claudius. He was blind and
almost helpless through age and infirmity. He had heard in his chamber
of the irresolution of the senate in respect to the further
prosecution of the war with Pyrrhus, and had caused himself to be
taken from his bed and borne through the streets by servants on a
chair to the senate-house, that he might there once more raise his
voice to save, if possible, the honor and dignity of his country. As
he entered the chamber, he became at once the object of universal
attention. As soon as he reached his seat, a respectful silence began
to prevail throughout the assembly, all listening to hear what he had
to say. He expressed himself as follows:

"Senators of Rome,--I am blind, and I have been accustomed to consider
my blindness as a calamity; but now I could wish that I had been deaf
as well as blind, and then I might never have heard of the disgrace
which seems to impend over my country. Where are now the boastings
that we made when Alexander the Great commenced his career, that if he
had turned his arms toward Italy and Rome, instead of Persia and the
East, we would never have submitted to him; that he never would have
gained the renown of being invincible if he had only attacked _us_,
but would, on the other hand, if he invaded our dominions, only have
contributed to the glory of the Roman name by his flight or his fall?
These boasts we made so loudly that the echo of them spread throughout
the world. And yet now, here is an obscure adventurer who has landed
on our shores as an enemy and an invader, and because he has met with
a partial and temporary success, you are debating whether you shall
not make an ignominious peace with him, and allow him to remain. How
vain and foolish does all our boastful defiance of Alexander appear
when we now tremble at the name of Pyrrhus--a