We have discussed what is happening to our young people; let us next consider what our mature people are doing. Having mentioned conditions in England, I will give a glimpse of London "high life" two years before the war.

As a visiting writer, I was invited to luncheon at the home of a woman novelist, whose books at that time were widely read both in her country and here. Present at the luncheon was a prominent publisher, who I afterwards learned was the lady's lover; also the lady's grown and married son. The publisher looked like a buxom hunting squire, but the lady told me that he was very unhappy, because his wife would not divorce him. The lady had just come from a week-end party at the home of an earl, who at this moment occupies one of the highest posts in the gift of the British Empire. Things had gone comically wrong at this country house party, she said, because the hostess had failed to remember that Lord So-and-so was at present living with Lady Somebody-else. One of the duties of hostesses at house parties, it appears, is to know who is living with whom, in order that they may be put in connecting rooms. In this case his Lordship had been grouchy, and everybody's pleasure had been spoiled.

This produced a discussion of the subject of marriage, and the son remarked that marriage was like an old slipper; you wore it, because you had got used to it, but you did not talk about it, because it was unimportant and stupid. I went away, and happened to mention these matters to a friend, who had met this woman novelist in Nice. The novelist had there, in a group of people, been introduced to a young girl who was suffering from neurasthenia. "My dear," said the novelist, affectionately, "what you need is to have an illegitimate baby."

This, you will say, is the "old world," and you always knew that it was corrupt. If so, let me tell you a few things that I have seen among the "upper circles" of our own great and virtuous democracy. My first acquaintance with New York "society" came after the publication of "The Jungle." As the author of that book I was a sensation, almost as much so as if I had won the heavy-weight championship of the world. Out of curiosity I accepted an invitation for a weekend amid what is called the "hunting set" of Long Island. Here was a gorgeous palace with many tapestries, and soft-footed servants, and decanters and cocktails at every stage of one's journey about the place, like coaling stations on the trade routes of the British Empire. One of the first sights that caught my young eye was a large and stately lady in semi-undress, smoking a big black cigar. If I were to mention her name, every newspaper reader in America would know her; and before I had been introduced to her, I heard two young men in evening dress make an obscene remark about her, and what she was waiting for that evening.

I discovered quickly that, while there was a great deal of sex among these people, there was very little love. There was principally a wish to score cleverly and subtly at the expense of another person's feelings. It is called the "smart set," you understand, and I will give you an idea of how "smart" it is. I was walking down a passage with a lady, and on a couch sat another lady, side by side with a certain very famous lawyer, whose golden eloquence you have probably listened to from platforms, and whom for the purpose of this anecdote I will name Jones. Mr. Jones and the lady on the sofa were sitting very close together, and my companion, with a bright smile over her shoulder, called out: "Be careful, Mary; you'll be scattering a lot of little Joneses around here if you don't watch out!" Quite "continental," you perceive; and a long way from the Puritanism of our ancestors!

From there I went to the billiard-room, and observed a young man of fashion trying to play billiards when he was half drunk. It was a funny spectacle, and they took away his cigarette by force, for fear he would drop it on the cloth of the billiard table. Pretty soon he was telling about a racing meet, and an orgy with negro women in a stable. Therefore I returned to where the ladies were gathered, and one middle-aged matron, who had read widely, including some of my books, engaged me in serious conversation. I came later on to know her rather well, and she told me her views of love; the source of all the sex troubles of humanity was that they took the relationship seriously. Modern discoveries made it unnecessary to attach importance to it. She herself, acting upon this theory, probably had had relations with—my friends, reading the proofs of this book, beg me to omit the number of men, because you would not believe me!

You may argue that this is not typical; say that I fell into the clutches of some particular group of degenerates. All I can tell you is that these people are as "socially prominent" as any in New York City. I will say furthermore that I have sat in the home of the best known corporation lawyer in America, who was paid a million dollars to organize the steel trust—the late James B. Dill, at that time a member of the Court of Appeals of New Jersey—and have heard him "muck-rake" his business friends by the hour with stories of that sort. I have heard him tell of the "steel crowd" hiring a trolley car and a load of prostitutes and champagne, and taking an all-night trip from one city to another, smashing up both the car and the prostitutes. I have heard him tell of sitting on the deck of a Sound steamer, and overhearing two of his Wall Street associates and their wives arranging to trade partners for the night.

I have mentioned a lady who had a great many lovers. Once in the dining-room of a club on Fifth Avenue, commonly known as "the Millionaires'," a companion pointed out various people, many of whom I had read about in the newspapers, and told me funny stories about them. "See that old boy with a note-book," said my host. "That is Jacob So-and-so, and he is entering up the cost of his lunch. He keeps accounts of everything, even of his women. He told me he had had over a thousand, and they had cost him over a million."

It is impossible to say what is the most terrible thing in capitalist society, but among the most terrible are assuredly the old men. The richest and most powerful banker in America was in his sex habits the merry jest of New York society. He took toward women the same attitude as King Edward VII; if he wanted one, he went up and asked for her, and it made no difference who she was, or where she was. This man's personal living expenses were five thousand dollars a day, and all women understood that they might have anything within reason.

When I was a boy, living in New York, there was a certain aged money-lender about whom one read something in the newspapers almost every day. He was a prominent figure, because he was worth eighty millions, yet wore an old, rusty black suit, and saved every penny. Every now and then you would read in the paper how some woman had been arrested for attempting to blackmail him in his office. It seemed puzzling, because you wouldn't think of him as a likely subject for blackmail. Some years later I met Dorothy Richardson, author of "The Long Day," a very fine book which has been undeservedly forgotten. Miss Richardson had been a reporter for the New York Herald, and had been sent to interview this old money-lender. She was ushered into his private office, and as soon as the attendant had gone out and closed the door, the old man came up, and without a word of preliminaries grabbed her in his arms like a gorilla. She fought and scratched, and got out, and was wise enough to say nothing about it; therefore there was nothing published about another attempt to blackmail the aged money-lender!

What this means is that men of unlimited means live lives of unbridled lust, and then in their old age they are helpless victims of their own impulses. There was a certain enormously wealthy United States Senator from West Virginia, who came very near being Vice President of the United States. This doddering old man would go about the streets of Washington with a couple of very decorous and carefully trained attendants; and whenever an attractive young woman would pass on the street, or when one would approach the Senator, these two attendants would quietly slip their arms into his and hold him fast. They would do this so that the ordinary person would not suspect what was going on, but would think the old man was being supported.

You do not have to take these things on my word; the newspapers are full of them all the time, and they are proven in court. Just now as I write, the president of the most powerful bank in America is claiming in court that his children are not his own, but that their father is an Indian guide. His wife, on the other hand, is accusing the banker of having played the role of husband to several other women. He would take these women traveling on his yacht, which, quaintly enough, was termed the "Modesty."

Also the papers have been full of the "Hamon case." Here is a wealthy man, Republican National Committeeman from Oklahoma, who is about to go to Washington to advise our new President whom to appoint to office from that state. Before he goes, he casts off his mistress, and she shoots him. She was his secretary, it appears, and helped him to make his fortune; she has made many friends, and a million dollars is spent to save her life. The prosecuting attorney calls her a "painted snake," and accuses her of having sat week after week "displaying to the jury twenty-four inches of silk stockinged shin-bone." The jury, apparently unable to withstand this allurement, acquits the woman, and she announces that she intends to bring suit under the man's will to get his money! Also, she is going into the "movies," and tells us that it is to be "for educational purposes." Everything in our capitalist society must be "educational," you understand. It was P. T. Barnum who discovered that the American people would flock to look at a five-legged calf, if it was presented as "educational."

The moving pictures and the theatres are the honey-pots which gather the feminine beauty and youthful charm of our country for the convenience of rich men's lust. These girls swarm in the theatrical agencies, and in the artists' studios; they starve for a while, and finally they yield. In every great city there are thousands of men of wealth, whose only occupation is to prey upon such girls. I know a certain theatrical manager, the most famous in the United States, a sensual, stout little Jew. He is a man of culture and subtle insight, and in the course of his conversation he described to me, quite casually and as a matter of course, the charm of deflowering a virgin. Nothing could equal that sensation; the first time was the last.

Many years ago there was a horrible scandal in New York. The most famous architect in America was murdered, and the newspapers probed into his life, and it was revealed to us that many of the most famous artists and men about town in New York maintained elaborate studios, equipped with every luxury, all the paraphernalia of all the vices of the ages; and through these places there flowed an endless stream of beautiful young girls. In every large city in America you will find an "athletic club," and if you go there and listen to the gossip, you discover that there are scores of idle rich men with automobiles and private apartments, and a staff of procurers used in preying, not merely upon young girls, but also upon young boys. And these are not merely the children of the poor, they are the children of all but the rich and powerful. In the "movies" you see pictures of girls lured into automobiles, and carried out into the country, or seduced by means of "knock-out drops," and you think this is just "melodrama"; but it is happening all the time. In every big city of our country the police know that hundreds of young girls disappear every year. At a recent convention of police chiefs in Washington, it was stated, from police records, that sixty thousand girls disappear every year in the United States, leaving no trace. Unless the parents happen to be in position to make a fuss, not even the names of the girls are published in the newspapers. I do not ask you to believe such things on my word; believe District Attorney Sims of Chicago, who made the most thorough study of this subject ever made in America, and wrote:

"When a white slave is sold and landed in a house or dive she becomes a prisoner.... In each of these places is a room having but one door, to which the keeper holds the key. Here are locked all the street clothes, shoes and ordinary apparel.... The finery provided for the girls is of a nature to make their appearance on the street impossible. Then in addition to this handicap, the girl is placed at once in debt to the keeper for a wardrobe.... She cannot escape while she is in debt, and she can never get out of debt. Not many of the women in this class expect to live more than ten years—perhaps the average is less. Many die painful deaths by disease, many by consumption, but it is hardly beyond the truth to say that suicide is their general expectation."