The Face of War
They came home by the thousands, critically wounded soldiers who were victims of what were then cutting-edge weapons: poison gases, flamethrowers, machine guns and trench mortars. But while medical technology was able to save many lives, doctors had never before encountered battlefield injuries as severe as the ones suffered by these hapless soldiers of World War I. As they struggled to save the lives of patients with shattered limbs and horribly disfigured faces, there was understandably no time to take aesthetics into consideration. After a lengthy convalescence, many veterans were sent on their way. Others remained in hospitals and convalescent units nursing their broken spirits and the distorted faces they were too afraid to bare to the world. There were an estimated 20,000 facial casualties as a result of World War I. According to a recent article in Smithsonian Magazine, in the neighborhood around a facial injury hospital that had been established in Sidcup, England, special park benches were painted blue—a code to warn the townspeople that anyone sitting on them might be distressful to view. Mirrors were banned from the hospital wards themselves, as many veterans who managed a quick glimpse of their own faces had collapsed in shock.
Sir Harold Gillies, one of the early pioneers of facial reconstruction and plastic surgery, wrote that although he had been trained to deal with harelips and small scars, “we were suddenly asked to produce half a face” for these battle-scarred veterans, a task for which he felt ill-equipped. Sir Gillies worked in tandem with artists who created sculptures of what the wounded soldiers had looked like before their injuries, and he did his best to restore them to their original likenesses. The before-and-after photographs published by Gillies after the war depict his many successes, while at the same time reveal the surgeon’s limitations. Many of his patients remained dreadfully disfigured, and it was these patients for whom the Masks for Facial Disfigurement Department of the 3rd London General Hospital was established. “My work begins where the work of the surgeon is completed,” declared the program’s founder, Francis Derwent Wood. A sculptor who had trained at several prestigious art institutes, Wood and his team of artists labored to create prosthetics for irreparably maimed soldiers.
Soldiers nicknamed the studio “The Tin Noses Shop.” Wood’s metallic masks were lightweight and more permanent than the rubber variety, which were the only option available until then. Together with his dedicated team, Wood custom-made each mask to bear the pre-war portrait of its intended wearer. He wasn’t the only person working to help these soldiers reintegrate into society. In 1917, an American sculptor named Anna Coleman Watts Ladd opened her Studio for Portrait Masks in Paris. As related by Smithsonian, each of her creations was crafted with incredible attention to detail: “Once the patient was wholly healed from both the original injury and the restorative operations, plaster casts were taken of his face, in itself a suffocating ordeal, from which clay or plasticine squeezes were made. The mask itself would be fashioned of galvanized copper one thirty-second of an inch thick—or as a lady visitor to Ladd’s studio remarked, ‘the thinness of a visiting card.’ Depending upon whether it covered the entire face, or as was often the case, only the upper or lower half, the mask weighed between four and nine ounces and was generally held on by spectacles. The greatest artistic challenge lay in painting the metallic surface the color of skin.
After experiments with oil paint, which chipped, Ladd began using a hard enamel that was washable and had a dull, flesh-like finish. She painted the mask while the man himself was wearing it, so as to match as closely as possible his own coloring. Details such as eyebrows, eyelashes and mustaches were made from real hair, or, in Wood’s studio, from slivered tinfoil.” Although the masks of both Wood and Ladd were limited in their ability to restore lost function such as chewing and swallowing—and Gillies records one incident in which the children of a mask-wearing solider fled in terror at the sight of their father—the veterans were in general exceedingly grateful for the masks that gave them a new lease on life. As Ladd wrote, “The letters of gratitude from the soldiers and their families hurt, they are so grateful.” “Thanks to you, I will have a home,” one soldier had written her. By the end of 1919 Ladd’s studio had created 185 masks; the number that Wood produced is not known. Few if any survive. But thanks to the work of these gifted artisans, the wounded men were able to face the world. “Surely they were buried with their owners,” suggested Wood’s biographer, Sarah Crellin.
Thinly-Veiled Protests
While Manhattan is the site of so many parades, protests and demonstrations that hardly anyone bats an eye (unless you’re stuck in traffic), last year three participants in a rally outside the Russian Consulate proclaiming solidarity with the jailed members of a Moscow rock band were arrested and hauled away by New York City police. Why was this demonstration different from all other demonstrations? These protestors, it seems, were wearing masks—in direct violation of a state law dating back to 1845 that prohibits three or more people from congregating in public wearing face coverings that conceal their identity. The law was enacted after several tenant farmers disguised as Native Americans attacked and killed their landlords. It was also recently enforced during the days of Occupy Wall Street. But have no fear; the law doesn’t apply to masquerades, entertainment or recreational events. Little Shloimy can still dress up as Haman this Purim without fear of arrest.
Sandals and Ski Masks
Alas, the quest for beauty often involves pain. That is why if you take a stroll on the beach in China you’ll see many locals sitting on their towels, relaxing in the sun—wearing brightly-colored ski masks made of stretchy bathing suit material. And it’s all for a higher cause. While tawny, suntanned skin has long been associated with health and beauty (much to the dismay of dermatologists) in the Western world, ingrained in the Chinese culture is an age-old aversion to sun-darkened skin for its association with peasantry. This is true even nowadays, when beach-going and outdoor activities are on the rise. While here in the United States pharmacy shelves are stocked with bottles of tanning lotion and bronzing potions that make it look as if you’ve spent hours in the sun, their Chinese counterparts are stocked with creams and cosmetic masks that promise a snow-white complexion.
In fact, the sun-protection industry is booming in China where a common idiom goes, “Fair skin conceals a thousand flaws.” According to a New York Times article published in 2012, after one media outlet described this phenomenon the masks were suddenly very hard to obtain. “But the sudden scarcity, it turns out, may not have been a simple case of demand outrunning supply. After the photographs caught the attention of the nation, the local government ordered businesses to stop selling them, according to several shop owners who said they were told the ban was due to concerns over ‘quality control.’ One seller, who declined to be identified for fear of angering the authorities, kept her supply of masks hidden under the counter. Only after repeated requests and vows of secrecy did she agree to part with one for 20 renminbi, around $3. ‘I don’t understand why the government is doing this,’ she said, glancing nervously at the front door. ‘People just want to avoid getting a tan.’”
The Man in the Iron Mask
While it sounds like the stuff of fiction, and in truth, much of what is told about this enigmatic individual is more myth than fact, there really was a historical figure whose face was hidden behind a mask for over 30 years. Even today his identity is still a matter of speculation. The story begins some 350 years ago, during the reign of Louis XIV of France. In a 1669 letter written by the French Secretary for War, the Marquis de Louvois, he informs the governor of the infamous Pignerol prison to prepare for the arrival a special prisoner whom he identifies as “Eustache Dauger.” The prison governor, a gentleman named Bénigne d’Auvergne de Saint-Mars, was instructed to ready a cell with multiple doors, one closing upon the other for security purposes. Saint-Mars would be allowed inside only once a day to provide food, and the prisoner was to be warned not to attempt to communicate with any of the other prisoners. “You must never, under any pretenses, listen to what he may wish to tell you.
Threaten him with death if he speaks one word relating to anything other than his actual needs. He is only a valet, and does not need much furniture.”In his correspondence Saint-Mars describes the mystery man as quiet, “disposed to the will of G-d and to the king.” In other words, the prisoner kept a low profile. Saint-Mars moved around a bit, taking some of his prisoners along to his new posts. In 1687 he was assigned to the fortress prison on the island of Sainte-Marguerite, to which “Dauger” was brought in a sedan chair covered with oilcloth to keep his identity a secret. According to reports, the 12-day trip under wraps almost killed him. Then on September 18, 1698, a mystery man arrived with Saint-Mars at the Bastille, the royal fortress used as a prison for upper-class members of society who had somehow angered the king. In his official journal, the king’s lieutenant, Etienne du Junca, writes that Saint-Mars “brought with him in a litter a longtime prisoner whom he had had in custody in Pignerol and always kept masked, and whose name has not been given to me or recorded.” In other entries he notes that the anonymous man was treated well, permitted to attend religious services and did not complain like many of his other charges. He also clearly describes the prisoner as wearing a black velvet mask.
The unidentified inmate died on November 19, 1703, five years after arriving at the gates of the Bastille. Du Junca was instructed to bury “the unknown prisoner who has worn a black velvet mask since his arrival here in 1698” under the name of “Marchialy.” It did not take long for this mysterious character to become fodder for legends that persist until today. By 1711, the letters of King Louis XIV’s sister-in-law point to a fascination with this individual, who “lived masked for long years in the Bastille, and masked he died there.” Voltaire, the famous historian and philosopher, started a rumor by writing in one of his books that this masked prisoner was none other than the older brother of Louis XIV. Not content with the story as it was, he decided to make it a little more dramatic; it is he we can thank for changing the mask from black velvet to iron.
Forever after, he was known as “The Man in the Iron Mask.” Over the years, multiple theories as to his identity were put forward. But who was he really? A critical examination of historical records narrows it down to two possible candidates: The first, Antonio Ercole Mattioli, was a crooked Italian politician who “caused disturbances in at least five countries, which came near to leading to general war.” Mattioli was kidnapped by the French in May 1679 and shipped off to Pignerol. By special order of the king his arrest warrant stated, “No person shall know what has become of this man.” Indeed, King Louis XVI told Marie Antoinette that he was a political intriguer from Mantua in Italy. Remember too that SaintMars buried the masked prisoner under the name “Marchioly,” which could easily be a distortion of “Mattioli.” Interestingly, some suggest that the prisoner himself chose to don the mask. It was an Italian custom among the upper class to cover one’s face when venturing out into the sun, so perhaps he just took it a little too far. You may recall though, that the prisoner was initially identified as “Eustache Dauger,” which brings us to candidate number two. Although “Dauger” was most probably an alias, many speculate that he was the valet of Roux de Marsilly, a French Huguenot who tried to stir up a Protestant alliance against France. Marsilly was tortured to death and his valet, named Martin, was imprisoned because it was assumed he knew many of Marsilly’s secrets. But the mystery may never be solved; the identity of the “Man in the Iron Mask” remains shrouded to this day.
