You Are Invited to a Masked Ball P.S.:Do Not Wear a Mask David Caldwell (bio) Rob Reiner's 1987 movie The Princess Bride tells the story of a princess, memorably named Buttercup, who is kidnaped and rescued. Fans of the film will recall that Princess Buttercup's abductors are a lovably inept trio of villains, and that her savior in dogged pursuit of the band is a mysterious man in black. His outfit includes a black mask. Genuinely curious, one of the kidnapers, a giant named Fezzik, asks his pursuer, "Why are you wearing a mask? Were you burned with acid, or something like that?" The man in black replies, "Oh no, it's just that they're terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future." More than thirty years later, the prophetic nature of that whimsical dialogue enhances enjoyment of it, though many would claim it was a bit off in its assessment of comfort level. However, the prediction of universal face coverage resonates no less during the Covid-19 pandemic than does a bit of advice that Fezzik gives his fellow accomplice Inigo Montoya elsewhere in the film. As Montoya prepares to engage their pursuer in a sword fight, he tells his friend. "You be careful. People in masks cannot be trusted." In addition to the role of the mask in various health practices over time, representations in popular culture, theater, literary prose, and eventually in film provide a revealing account of human masking and unmasking over the centuries. America's tumult of mistrust and apprehension over pandemic face coverings in 2020 has unfolded as the latest chapter in the history of humans alternately covering their faces and leaving them unmasked. In particular, a selective examination of masking in other times, both in historical context and in the virtual venues of literature, reveals much about American society since the election of Donald Trump. In The Princess Bride the man in black, played by Cary Elwes, makes his way up the Cliffs of Insanity, through the Fire Swamp, [End Page 199] and into the Pit of Despair--fantasy destinations that again scream metaphorical comparisons to 2020. This tour, however, first provides historical context, then drops in on a couple of exceptionally garish masked balls from 19th and 20th century literature. They are the type of festivity that would be inconceivable for a non-literary party planner. Similarly, prior to the ascendancy of Donald Trump in politics, the unprecedented spectacle of his administration could scarcely have been conceived outside of fantasy. While the Pit of Despair is not a destination on this overview of mask culture, we will drop by 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Masks are optional there. Humans have always found reasons to cover their faces, whether as a means of expression or as a tool for concealment. Even the use of masks as protective equipment by various professions in the technological age has historical precedence. Beginning in the 17th century, European plague doctors wore beaked visors with glass eye coverings to protect themselves from miasma, the putrid and supposedly infectious air that was believed to cause the disease. In some European cities and towns, including many where a memorial plague column dominates the public square, historical epidemics remain a part of the cultural fabric. For example in Venice today, replicas of the plague mask are sold as curiosities. Medieval Venice is a particularly instructive example of pandemic response, due to its development of the forty-day quarantine for incoming ships and their crews on two outlying islands, a prerequisite for permission to disembark in the harbor. The word quarantine derives from the Italian term for forty days, quaranta giorni. Between plagues, Venice´s embrace of mask-wearing has historically found a less macabre outlet in costume balls that highlight what is called "cosplay" today. During Carnival season in particular, elaborately decorative face coverings are a staple of Venetian galas. The social convention of the masked ball emerged during the Middle Ages, around the same time as the first epidemics. Though the two phenomena are not necessarily related, their separate deployment of masks is enlightening. After the emergence of the plague...