Choose the Right Victim

Everything depends on the target of your seduction. Study your prey thoroughly, and choose only those who will prove susceptible to

your charms. The right victims are those for whom you can fill a void, who see in you something exotic. They are often isolated or at least somewhat unhappy (perhaps because of recent adverse

circumstances), or can easily be made so—for the completely contented person is almost impossible to seduce. The perfect victim has some natural quality that attracts you. The strong emotions this quality inspires will help make your seductive maneuvers seem more natural and dynamic. The perfect victim allows for the perfect chase.

Preparing for the Hunt

The young Vicomte de Valmont was a notorious libertine in the Paris of the 1770s, the ruin of many a young girl and the ingenious seducer of the wives of illustrious aristocrats. But after a while the repetitiveness of it all began to bore him; his successes came too easily. So one year, during the sweltering, slow month of August, he decided to take a break from Paris and visit his aunt at her château in the provinces. Life there was not what he was used to—there were country walks, chats with the local vicar, card games. His city friends, particularly his fellow libertine and confidante the Marquise de Merteuil, expected him to hurry back.

There were other guests at the château, however, including the Présidente de Tourvel, a twenty-two-year-old woman whose husband was temporarily absent, having work to do elsewhere. The Présidente had been languishing

at the château, waiting for him to join her. Valmont had met her before; she was certainly beautiful, but had a reputation as a prude who was extremely devoted to her husband. She was not a court lady; her taste in clothing was atrocious (she always covered her neck with ghastly frills) and her conversation lacked wit. For some reason, however, far from Paris, Valmont began to see these traits in a new light. He followed her to the chapel where she went every morning to pray. He caught glimpses of her at dinner, or playing cards. Unlike the ladies of Paris, she seemed unaware of her charms; this excited him. Because of the heat, she wore a simple linen dress, which revealed her figure. A piece of muslin covered her breasts, letting him more than imagine them. Her hair, unfashionable in its slight disorder, conjured the bedroom. And her face—he had never noticed how

expressive it was. Her features lit up when she gave alms to a beggar; she blushed at the slightest praise. She was so natural and unself-conscious.

And when she talked of her husband, or religious matters, he could sense the depth of her feelings. If such a passionate nature were ever detoured into a love affair. . . .

Valmont extended his stay at the château, much to the delight of his aunt, who could not have guessed at the reason. And he wrote to the Marquise de Merteuil, explaining his new ambition: to seduce Madame de Tourvel. The Marquise was incredulous. He wanted to seduce this prude? If he succeeded, how little pleasure she would give him, and if he failed, what a disgrace—the great libertine unable to seduce a wife whose husband was far away! She wrote a sarcastic letter, which only inflamed Valmont further. The conquest of this notoriously virtuous woman would prove his greatest seduction. His reputation would only be enhanced.

The ninth • Have I become blind? Has the inner

eye of the soul lost its power? I have seen her, but it is as if I had seen a heavenly revelation—so

completely has her image vanished again for me. In vain do I summon all the powers of my soul in order to conjure up this image. If I ever see her again, I shall be able to recognize her instantly, even though she stands among a hundred others.

Now she has fled, and the eye of my soul tries in vain to overtake her with its longing. I was walking along Langelinie, seemingly nonchalantly and without paying attention to my surroundings, although my reconnoitering glance left nothing unobserved—and then my eyes fell upon her. My

eyes fixed unswervingly upon her. They no longer obeyed their master’s will; it was impossible for me to shift my gaze and thus overlook the object I

wanted to see—I did not look, I stared, As a fencer freezes in his lunge, so my eyes were fixed, petrified in the direction initially taken. It was

impossible to look down, impossible to withdraw my glance, impossible to see, because I saw far too much. The only thing I have retained is that she had on a green cloak, that is all—one could call it capturing the cloud instead of Juno; she has escaped me . . . and left only her cloak behind….

The girl made an impression on me. • The sixteenth

• . . . I feel no impatience, for she must live here in the city, and at this moment that is enough for me.

This possibility is the condition for the proper appearance of her image—everything will be enjoyed in slow drafts. • The nineteenth •

Cordelia, then, is her name! Cordelia! It is a beautiful name, and that, too, is important, since it can often be very disturbing to have to name an

ugly name together with the most tender adjectives.

—SØREN KIERKEGAARD, THE SEDUCER’S DIARY, TRANSLATED BY HOWARD V. HONG

AND EDNA H. HONG

Love as understood by Don Juan is a feeling akin to a taste for hunting. It is a craving for an activity

which needs an incessant diversity of stimuli to challenge skill.

—STENDHAL, LOVE, TRANSLATED BY GILBERT AND SUZANNE SALE

It is not the quality of the desired object that gives us pleasure, but rather the energy of our appetites.

—CHARLES BAUDELAIRE, THE END OF DON JUAN

There was an obstacle, though, that seemed to make success almost impossible: everyone knew Valmont’s reputation, including the Présidente. She knew how dangerous it was to ever be alone with him, how people would talk about the least association with him. Valmont did everything to belie his reputation, even going so far as to attend church services and seem repentant of his ways. The Présidente noticed, but still kept her distance.

The challenge she presented to Valmont was irresistible, but could he meet it?

Valmont decided to test the waters. One day he arranged a little walk with the Présidente and his aunt. He chose a delightful path that they had never taken before, but at a certain point they reached a little ditch,

unsuitable for a lady to cross on her own. And yet, Valmont said, the rest of the walk was too nice for them to turn back, and he gallantly picked up his aunt in his arms and carried her across the ditch, making the Présidente laugh uproariously. But then it was her turn, and Valmont purposefully picked her up a little awkwardly, so that she caught at his arms, and while he was holding her against him he could feel her heart beating faster, and

saw her blush. His aunt saw this too, and cried out, “The child is afraid!” But Valmont sensed otherwise. Now he knew that the challenge could be met, that the Présidente could be won. The seduction could proceed.

Interpretation. Valmont, the Présidente de Tourvel, and the Marquise de Merteuil are all characters in the eighteenth-century French novel

Dangerous Liaisons, by Choderlos de Laclos. (The character of Valmont

was inspired by several real-life libertines of the time, most prominent of all the Duke de Richelieu.) In the story, Valmont worries that his seductions

have become mechanical; he makes a move, and the woman almost always responds the same way. But no two seductions should be the same—a different target should change the whole dynamic. Valmont’s problem is that he is always seducing the same type—the wrong type. He realizes this when he meets Madame de Tourvel.

It is not because her husband is a count that he decides to seduce her, or because she is stylishly dressed, or is desired by other men—the usual reasons. He chooses her because, in her unconscious way, she has already

seduced him. A bare arm, an unrehearsed laugh, a playful manner—all these have captured his attention, because none of them is contrived. Once he

falls under her spell, the strength of his desire will make his subsequent maneuvers seem less calculated; he is apparently unable to help himself. And his strong emotions will slowly infect her.

Beyond the effect the Présidente has on Valmont, she has other traits that make her the perfect victim. She is bored, which draws her toward adventure. She is naive, and unable to see through his tricks. Finally, the Achilles’ heel: she believes herself immune to seduction. Almost all of us

are vulnerable to the attractions of other people, and we take precautions against unwanted lapses. Madame de Tourvel takes none. Once Valmont has tested her at the ditch, and has seen she is physically vulnerable, he knows that eventually she will fall.

The daughter of desire should strive to have the following lovers in their turn, as being mutually restful to her: a boy who has been loosed too soon from the authority and counsel of his father, an

author enjoying office with a rather simple-minded prince, a merchant’s son whose pride is in rivaling other lovers, an ascetic who is the slave of love in secret, a king’s son whose follies are boundless and who has a taste for rascals, the countrified son of some village Brahman, a married woman’s

lover, a singer who has just pocketed a very large sum of money, the master of a caravan but recently come in. These brief instructions admit of

infinitely varied interpretation, dear child,

according to the circumstance; and it requires intelligence, insight and reflection to make the best of each particular case.

—EASTERN LOVE, VOLUME II: THE HARLOT’S BREVIARY OF KSHEAENDRA,

TRANSLATED BY E. POWYS MATHERS

Life is short, and should not be wasted pursuing and seducing the wrong people. The choice of target is critical; it is the set up of the seduction and it will determine everything else that follows. The perfect victim does not

have certain facial features, or the same taste in music, or similar goals in life. That is how a banal seducer chooses his or her targets. The perfect victim is the person who stirs you in a way that cannot be explained in words, whose effect on you has nothing to do with superficialities. He or

she often has a quality that you yourself lack, and may even secretly envy— the Présidente, for example, has an innocence that Valmont long ago lost or never had. There should be a little bit of tension—the victim may fear you a little, even slightly dislike you. Such tension is full of erotic potential and will make the seduction much livelier. Be more creative in choosing your prey and you will be rewarded with a more exciting seduction. Of course, it means nothing if the potential victim is not open to your influence. Test the person first. Once you feel that he or she is also vulnerable to you then the hunting can begin.

It is a stroke of good fortune to find one who is worth seducing. Most people rush ahead,

become engaged or do other stupid things, and in a turn of the hand everything is over, and they

know neither what they have won nor what they have lost.

—SØREN KIERKEGAARD

The women who can be easily won over to

congress: . . . a woman who looks sideways at you;

. . . a woman who hates her husband, or who is hated by him; . . . a woman who has not had any

children; . . . a woman who is very fond of society; a woman who is apparently very affectionate

toward her husband; the wife of an actor; a widow; . . . a woman fond of enjoyments; . . . a vain woman; a woman whose husband is inferior to her in rank or ability; a woman who is proud of her skill in the arts; . . . a woman who is slighted by her husband without any cause; . . . a woman

whose husband is devoted to travelling; the wife of a jeweler; a jealous woman; a covetous woman.

—THE HINDU ART OF LOVE, EDITED BY EDWARD WINDSOR

Keys to Seduction

Throughout life we find ourselves having to persuade people—to seduce them. Some will be relatively open to our influence, if only in subtle ways, while others seem impervious to our charms. Perhaps we find this a mystery beyond our control, but that is an ineffective way of dealing with life.

Seducers, whether sexual or social, prefer to pick the odds. As often as

possible they go toward people who betray some vulnerability to them, and avoid the ones who cannot be moved. To leave people who are inaccessible to you alone is a wise path; you cannot seduce everyone. On the other hand, you must actively hunt out the prey that responds the right way. This will

make your seductions that much more pleasurable and satisfying.

How do you recognize your victims? By the way they respond to you.

You should not pay so much attention to their conscious responses—a person who is obviously trying to please or charm you is probably playing to your vanity, and wants something from you. Instead, pay greater

attention to those responses outside conscious control—a blush, an involuntary mirroring of some gesture of yours, an unusual shyness, even perhaps a flash of anger or resentment. All of these show that you are having an effect on a person who is open to your influence.

Leisure stimulates love, leisure watches the lovelorn, \ Leisure’s the cause and sustenance of this sweet \ Evil. Eliminate leisure, and Cupid’s

bow is broken, \ His torches lie lightless, scorned. \ As a plane-tree rejoices in wine, as a poplar in

water, \ As a marsh-reed in swampy ground, so Venus loves \ Leisure. \ Why do you think

Aegisthus \ Became an adulterer? Easy: he was

idle—and bored. \ Everyone else was away at Troy on a lengthy \ Campaign: all Greece had shipped \ Its contingent across. Suppose he hankered for

warfare? Argos \ Had no wars to offer. Suppose he fancied the courts? \ Argos lacked litigation. Love was better than doing nothing. \ That’s how Cupid slips in; that’s how he stays.

—OVID, CURES FOR LOVE, TRANSLATED BY PETER GREEN

The Chinese have a proverb: “When Yang is in the ascendant, Yin is born,” which means, translated into our language, that when a man has devoted

the better of his life to the ordinary business of living, the Yin, or emotional side of his nature,

rises to the surface and demands its rights. When such a period occurs, all that which has formerly seemed important loses its significance. The will- of- the-wisp of illusion leads the man hither and thither, taking him on strange and complicated

deviations from his former path in life. Ming Huang, the “Bright Emperor” of the T’ang

dynasty, was an example of the profound truth of

this theory. From the moment he saw Yang Kuei-fei bathing in the lake near his palace in the Li mountains, he was destined to sit at her feet, learning from her the emotional mysteries of what the Chinese call Yin.

—ELOISE TALCOTT HIBBERT, EMBROIDERED GAUZE: PORTRAITS OF FAMOUS

CHINESE LADIES

Like Valmont, you can also recognize the right targets by the effect they are having on you. Perhaps they make you uneasy—perhaps they correspond to a deep-rooted childhood ideal, or represent some kind of personal taboo that excites you, or suggest the person you imagine you would be if you were the opposite sex. When a person has such a deep effect on you, it transforms all of your subsequent maneuvers. Your face and gestures become more animated. You have more energy; when victims resist you (as a good victim should) you in turn will be more creative, more motivated to overcome their resistance. The seduction will move forward

like a good play. Your strong desire will infect the target and give them the dangerous sensation that they have a power over you. Of course, you are the one ultimately in control since you are making your victims emotional at

the right moments, leading them back and forth. Good seducers choose targets that inspire them but they know how and when to restrain themselves.

Never rush into the waiting arms of the first person who seems to like you. That is not seduction but insecurity. The need that draws you will make for a low-level attachment, and interest on both sides will sag. Look at the

types you have not considered before—that is where you will find challenge and adventure. Experienced hunters do not choose their prey by how easily it is caught; they want the thrill of the chase, a life-and-death struggle—the fiercer the better.

Although the victim who is perfect for you depends on you, certain types lend themselves to a more satisfying seduction. Casanova liked young

women who were unhappy, or had suffered a recent misfortune. Such women appealed to his desire to play the savior, but it also responded to necessity: happy people are much harder to seduce. Their contentment

makes them inaccessible. It is always easier to fish in troubled waters. Also, an air of sadness is itself quite seductive—Genji, the hero of the Japanese novel The Tale of Genji, could not resist a woman with a melancholic air. In Kierkegaard’s book The Seducer’s Diary, the narrator, Johannes, has one main requirement in his victim: she must have imagination. That is why he chooses a woman who lives in a fantasy world, a woman who will envelop his every gesture in poetry, imagining far more than is there. Just as it is hard to seduce a person who is happy, it is hard to seduce a person who has no imagination.

For women, the manly man is often the perfect victim. Mark Antony was of this type—he loved pleasure, was quite emotional, and when it came to women, found it hard to think straight. He was easy for Cleopatra to manipulate. Once she gained a hold on his emotions, she kept him permanently on a string. A woman should never be put off by a man who

seems overly aggressive. He is often the perfect victim. It is easy, with a few coquettish tricks, to turn that aggression around and make him your slave. Such men actually enjoy being made to chase after a woman.

Be careful with appearances. The person who seems volcanically

passionate is often hiding insecurity and self-involvement. This was what most men failed to perceive in the nineteenth-century courtesan Lola Montez. She seemed so dramatic, so exciting. In fact, she was a troubled, self-obsessed woman, but by the time men discovered this it was too late— they had become involved with her and could not extricate themselves without months of drama and torture. People who are outwardly distant or shy are often better targets than extroverts. They are dying to be drawn out, and still waters run deep.

People with a lot of time on their hands are extremely susceptible to seduction. They have mental space for you to fill. Tullia d’Aragona, the

infamous sixteenth-century Italian courtesan, preferred young men as her victims; besides the physical reason for such a preference, they were more idle than working men with careers, and therefore more defenseless against an ingenious seductress. On the other hand, you should generally avoid

people who are preoccupied with business or work—seduction demands

attention, and busy people have too little space in their minds for you to occupy.

According to Freud, seduction begins early in life, in our relationship with our parents. They seduce us physically, both with bodily contact and by satisfying desires such as hunger, and we in turn try to seduce them into paying us attention. We are creatures by nature vulnerable to seduction throughout our lives. We all want to be seduced; we yearn to be drawn out of ourselves, out of our routines and into the drama of eros. And what draws us more than anything is the feeling that someone has something we don‘t, a quality we desire. Your perfect victims are often people who think you

have something they don’t, and who will be enchanted to have it provided for them. Such victims may have a temperament quite the opposite of yours, and this difference will create an exciting tension.

When Jiang Qing, later known as Madame Mao, first met Mao Tse-tung in 1937 in his mountain retreat in western China, she could sense how

desperate he was for a bit of color and spice in his life: all the camp’s women dressed like the men, and abjured any feminine finery. Jiang had been an actress in Shanghai, and was anything but austere. She supplied what he lacked, and she also gave him the added thrill of being able to

educate her in communism, appealing to his Pygmalion complex—the

desire to dominate, control, and remake a person. In fact it was Jiang Qing who controlled her future husband.

The greatest lack of all is excitement and adventure, which is precisely what seduction offers. In 1964, the Chinese actor Shi Pei Pu, a man who had gained fame as a female impersonator, met Bernard Bouriscout, a young diplomat assigned to the French embassy in China. Bouriscout had come to China looking for adventure, and was disappointed to have little contact with Chinese people. Pretending to be a woman who, when still a child, had been forced to live as a boy—supposedly the family already had

too many daughters—Shi Pei Pu used the young Frenchman’s boredom and discontent to manipulate him. Inventing a story of the deceptions he had had to go through, he slowly drew Bouriscout into an affair that would last many years. (Bouriscout had had previous homosexual encounters, but considered himself heterosexual.) Eventually the diplomat was led into spying for the Chinese. All the while, he believed Shi Pei Pu was a woman

—his yearning for adventure had made him that vulnerable. Repressed types are perfect victims for a deep seduction.

People who repress the appetite for pleasure make ripe victims, particularly later in their lives. The eighth-century Chinese Emperor Ming Huang spent much of his reign trying to rid his court of its costly addiction to luxuries, and was himself a model of austerity and virtue. But the moment he saw the concubine Yang Kuei-fei bathing in a palace lake, everything changed. The most charming woman in the realm, she was the mistress of his son. Exerting his power, the emperor won her away—only to become her abject slave.

The choice of the right victim is equally important in politics. Mass

seducers such as Napoleon or John E Kennedy offer their public just what it lacks. When Napoleon came to power, the French people’s sense of pride

was beaten down by the bloody aftermath of the French Revolution. He offered them glory and conquest. Kennedy recognized that Americans were bored with the stultifying comfort of the Eisenhower years; he gave them

adventure and risk. More important, he tailored his appeal to the group most vulnerable to it: the younger generation. Successful politicians know that not everyone will be susceptible to their charm, but if they can find a group of believers with a need to be filled, they have supporters who will stand by them no matter what.

Symbol: Big Game. Lions are dangerous—to hunt them is to know the thrill of risk. Leopards are clever and swift, offering the

excitement of a difficult chase. Never rush into the hunt, Know your prey and choose it carefully. Do not waste time with small game— the rabbits that back into snares, the mink that walk into a scented

trap. Challenge is pleasure.

Reversal

There is no possible reversal. There is nothing to be gained from trying to seduce the person who is closed to you, or who cannot provide the pleasure and chase that you need.