I wear the face of a leader of men. My financial worth is small and my
appearance not impressive, yet my presence is a passport to any country
and society. I have the entree alike to the boudoir and the armed; I
penetrate to royal palaces and to the far corners of the earth. In my
youth I am bright and fresh looking; later, my face is marred and
disfigured and I am cast aside as nothing; but when I am very old I am eagerly sought, and a safe refuge is provided for me, where I am exhibited to admiring visitors. What am I?