Since his early student travels to France and Germany Chamberlain believed that he had been in training for the Foreign Office. Although he had accepted the shadow portfolio for foreign affairs on his return to the Conservative front bench in February, however, he did not consider the Foreign Office as a possibility until Baldwin first raised the question in October 1924. At this juncture, daunted by the expense, the exacting burden of work with which he was unfamiliar and the attendant political risks, Chamberlain had been inclined to prefer a return to the India Office. In the event, his wife recommended the Foreign Office and, rather uncharacteristically, he was soon confiding to his sisters that he had ‘rapidly found [his] feet’. Within a year he was rejoicing in afar greater sense of fulfilment from the Foreign Office than he could ever have expected from being Prime Minister. To a considerable degree this satisfaction was derived from the very special nature of the position enjoyed by a British Foreign Secretary. As he noted when the offer was first made, the Foreign Office ‘is the highest office in the public estimation’: a status reflected in the special pomp and dignity which surrounded its holder. As Eden later recalled, the Foreign Secretary's journey to Geneva was ‘something of an event and took place at a measured pace. The top-hatted stationmaster and the Foreign Office representatives at Victoria, the harbourmaster at Dover bowing us on to the ship, the préfect and the mayor of Calais, then the drive across Paris and dinner at the Embassy, the night train at the Gare de Lyon, where M. Briand and some other of Sir Austen's colleagues were also embarking for Geneva. Finally, the arrival at Geneva, about 7.30 in the morning, when the whole staff was paraded to meet their chief at the station’. In many respects, Chamberlain was ideally suited by character and temperament to fulfil such a role as a model British Foreign Secretary.
