Swoon

One great seducer who had slipped my mind—I knew him only as a statesman, which is like knowing Ted Heath as a conductor rather than a deadly bore—was Prince Klemens von Metternich, the man who kept Napoleon’s son in wintry Austria rather than give him the kingdom of Greece, which would have kept the sickly King of Rome alive. Metternich was extremely good-looking and a smoothie in the drawing room. Apparently he was a prince between the sheets to boot. He seduced everyone: the wife of a Russian general, the nieces of his emperor, even the sister of his archenemy, Napoleon. He had two duchesses as mistresses, and one cost him Bavaria when he overslept with her during the Congress of Vienna. (So what is a little Bavaria in front of a naked angel of a duchess?)

One hundred years later, in faraway Santo Domingo, another diplomat-seducer was born: Porfirio Rubirosa, my old mentor. Rubi’s charm was irresistible and he sang and danced with the best of them. In an age when men openly proposition women—and land them—his technique must seem awfully dated. But he liked seducing ladies, not slags. When he sang while strumming a guitar in an outdoor nightclub in the south of France, it was neither dated nor corny.

Aly Khan, the father of the present Aga Khan, was no slouch in the seduction stakes, either. A very good amateur rider and diplomat, he spent his time chasing the opposite sex, which was considered a worthy pursuit back then. He was killed in a car accident in Paris in 1960. A friend of mine, Aris, once told me that listening to a woman is the quickest way to her bed. In other words, there’s almost no female desire like the desire to be heard. I told him it was beyond me. When lightning strikes, I have to speak nonstop. I reminded him that a disagreeable, five-foot-four, bandy-legged morose type with a hump on his back by the name of Chateaubriand had mistresses flocking to him because he caressed them with his talk. His fame helped get the ladies, but mainly it was his conversation. He even cheated on his greatest love, Juliette Récamier, “hymned as the loveliest woman in the world.” Good for you, François-René.

At worst, with its ritual techniques of persuasion, seduction has something dishonest about it. Seduction, unlike a marriage proposal, can never occur between equals. One person usually wants it more than the other. Its inherent imbalance explains why in a way it is exploitive. Who cares? Flatter, talk, praise, pursue, bribe, but get the job done: That’s what a great seducer is all about. Win at all costs. In Swoon, a psychologist tells the author that seduction is not something one learns, “only unlearns.” Again, I agree. There are men who know how to handle it and others who will never learn. It can’t be taught; it can only be perfected. Good luck.