A reception for failed treaties, tepid alliances, and other footnotes of the long evening.
The shelves bow under Treatises on Useful Conversation, third edition, annotated by a person who clearly disagreed with the second. A reading lamp flickers; the spine of 1814 has been replaced with one labelled 1815, in retrospect. The atmosphere is a slow, velveteen hush — the kind that only follows the closing of an enormous door.
— marginalia, c. unknownBehind a panel of false books (The Compleat Etiquette of Concession, vols. I–IV) a brass latch turns. The room within is small, deliberate, and lit as if the lamps have been negotiated down. Drinks are named for failed peace summits. The Treaty of Tilsit is, regrettably, a sour.
— overheard at the barWe claim to study diplomatic precedent. In practice the studies are short, the asides are long, and the marginalia have entirely overtaken the text. There is a recurring thesis, never quite articulated, regarding the productive uses of vermouth. It will not be peer-reviewed.
— the editors, with affectionA sealed envelope, in this establishment, is never to be opened in front of its addressee. One waits. One pours something. One waits again. Diplomacy is, in the end, the art of asking how someone is and waiting eight uninterrupted seconds for a real answer.
cf. the long pause, vol. III, ch. 2There once was a Congress in Vienna / Whose minutes ran longer than dinner. / They redrew a map, / Took a fortnight-long nap, / And the punch went from full down to thinner.
ed. rhyme acceptable; geopolitics, debatable.No phones at the bar. No agreements before the second drink. No drink before the second introduction. The library remains technically open; you may read at the bar provided the book is older than you are and you do not move your lips.
nb. exceptions made for the Treatise on BrandyThe map drawer has not been fully closed since 1956. Inside, among other things: a disputed border, two cocktail napkins redrafting it, a feather, and a receipt for thirteen martinis paid in a currency no longer printed. We do not redraw the borders. We do refresh the napkins.
q.v. drawer №4, do not slamTreaty — a sentence everyone agrees to misremember equally. Communiqué — a paragraph written so that nothing in it can be quoted. Off the record — quoted, but with regret. Last call — a phrase known to extend, on these premises, by up to ninety minutes.
see also the index of unspoken agreementsThere is a door at the back of the cipher room that opens onto a smaller cipher room. The smaller cipher room is, regrettably, where we keep the actual archive. You will be admitted in due course. Pour yourself something. We are nearly through.
fin.— the Diplomats & Bartenders, in joint session
closed when the conversation finishes / open again at dusk