The chorus had been established before Æschylus, as it composed alone, or next to alone, what was then called tragedy. He did not therefore exclude it, but, on the contrary, thought fit to incorporate it, to sing as chorus between the acts. Thus it supplied the interval of resting, and was a kind of person of the drama, employed either(181) in giving useful advice and salutary instructions, in espousing the party of innocence and virtue, in being the depository of secrets, and the avenger of violated religion, or in sustaining all those characters at the same time according to Horace. The coryphæus, or principal person of the chorus, spoke for the rest. In one of Æschylus’s pieces, called the _Eumenides_, the poet represents Orestes at the bottom of the stage, surrounded by the Furies, laid asleep by Apollo. Their figure must have been extremely horrible, as it is related, that upon their waking and appearing tumultuously on the theatre, where they were to act as a chorus, some women miscarried with the surprise, and several children died of the fright. The chorus at that time consisted of fifty actors. After this accident, it was reduced to fifteen by an express law, and at length to twelve. I have observed, that one of the alterations made by Æschylus in tragedy, was the mask worn by his actors. These dramatic masks had no resemblance to ours, which only cover the face, but were a kind of case for the whole head, and which, besides the features, represented the beard, the hair, the ears, and even the ornaments used by women in their head-dresses. These masks varied according to the different pieces that were acted. The subject is treated at large in a dissertation of M. Boindin’s, inserted in the _Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres_.(182) I could never comprehend, as I have observed elsewhere,(183) in speaking of pronunciation, how masks came to continue so long upon the stage of the ancients; for certainly they could not be used, without considerably deadening the spirit of the action, which is principally expressed in the countenance, the seat and mirror of what passes in the soul. Does it not often happen, that the blood, according as it is put in motion by different passions, sometimes covers the face with a sudden and modest blush, sometimes enflames it with the heat of rage and fury, sometimes retires, leaving it pale with fear, and at others diffuses a calm and amiable serenity over it? All these affections are strongly imaged and distinguished in the lineaments of the face. The mask deprives the features of this energetic language, and of that life and soul, by which it is the faithful interpreter of all the sentiments of the heart. I do not wonder, therefore, at Cicero’s remark upon the action of Roscius.(184) “Our ancestors,”’ says he, “were better judges than we are. They could not wholly approve even Roscius himself, whilst he performed in a mask.”