When the Roman people heard of the approach of the Volsci, they were greatly frightened; but their terror was increased when they were informed that Coriolanus had joined their enemies; and nothing was heard in Rome but howlings and lamentations. Brutus and Sicinius were greatly discomfited, for the popular fury was turned against them. They were upbraided for the banishment of Coriolanus, and were hooted and pelted by the rabble, in the same manner as Coriolanus had been; so that they were forced to hide themselves from their fury. The former friends of Coriolanus were rejoiced at this, but they were no less in consternation; for the destruction of a city in which we live is a terrible thing, and must be attended with ruin to all who live in it. They could not, however, forbear taunting the guilty citizens with their injustice in banishing so great a man. The poor people, who had before exhibited so much tyranny, now became wofully abject, and in the most humiliating accents begged the friends of Coriolanus to go to him and supplicate for mercy. They went, but their supplication was vain, for Coriolanus received them very coldly, and told them he had taken an oath for the destruction of the city, which he would not break, and nothing could move him from his purpose of revenge. The city was now encompassed on all sides by the Volscian array, and the despair of the inhabitants was complete; they saw nothing before them but fire and devastation, havoc and slaughter; and after having put up prayers to the gods to avert the dreaded calamity, they went, at last, to the mother of Coriolanus, Veturia, and implored her to intercede with her avenging son. After many excuses, and bitter reproaches towards those who had so unworthily treated Coriolanus, the Roman matron at last consented to make her way to the Volscian camp, to obtain the salvation of the devoted city. After a solemn fast, and supplication to the gods, Veturia called to her all the patrician ladies of Rome, and urged them to array themselves in deep mourning, and to wear on their heads every indication of profound grief. Everything being arranged, the procession of several hundred ladies, thus arrayed, descended the hill upon which the city was built, and passed through the principal barrier, and the gigantic gates which led to the Volscian camp. They passed along without molestation or opposition into the tent of Coriolanus, who having received information of their approach, sat in his chair of state, fixed, cold, and inflexible, to receive them. When the Roman general saw his mother coming towards him, he could scarcely refrain from rising at her approach. He had been, from a child, so used to honor his parent, that after a violent struggle with himself, to keep his fierce and unbending look, he at last descended from his seat and threw himself at her feet. “Let me sink in the earth,” said he, “and as I am an uncommon man, let me show uncommon duty to my mother.”