It is difficult for us today to conceive of the
position which Lord D'Abemon occupied in Berlin between 1920 and 1926. No British Ambassador since Malmesbury has exercised such persistent or creative influence. Superb and vital he would stride up and down his study in the Embassy, pumping hope, energy and ideas into the defeatist ministers of the Weimar Republic. It was in that study, with its three gaunt windows gaping upon the Wilhelmstrasse, with its ugly pannelling and its grim leather chairs, that was born, not Locamo only, but also the rentenmark. I remem- ber, many months after Lord D'Abemon had left Germany, finding myself sitting next to a minor Minister at a Berlin banquet. He spoke of Stresemann. " We are worried," he said, " about his health. He is becoming irritable, and rude, yes rude. In the old days he was always so gay and agreeable." " What do you mean by ' rude ' ? " I asked him, scenting that some recent outburst of Stresemann still rankled. " Well," he said, " he was rude to all of us the other day in Cabinet." My curiosity was insistent. " What did he say ? " I asked. " I ought not to tell you," answered the disgruntled Minister, " but I shall He said, ' It is remarkable, gentlemen, that since Lord D'Abemon left, none of you have any ideas ! ' " • * *
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