At the beginning of his Majesty’s reign, Lord Talbot came to the administration of a great department in the household.  I believe no man ever entered into his Majesty’s service, or into the service of any prince, with a more clear integrity, or with more zeal and affection for the interest of his master, and, I must add, with abilities for a still higher service.  Economy was then announced as a maxim of the reign.  This noble lord, therefore, made several attempts towards a reform.  In the year 1777, when the king’s civil list debts came last to be paid, he explained very fully the success of his undertaking.  He told the House of Lords that he had attempted to reduce the charges of the king’s tables and his kitchen.  The thing, Sir, was not below him.  He knew that there is nothing interesting in the concerns of men whom we love and honor, that is beneath our attention.  “Love,” says one of our old poets, “esteems no office mean,”—­and with still more spirit, “Entire affection scorneth nicer hands.”  Frugality, Sir, is founded on the principle, that all riches have limits.  A royal household, grown enormous, even in the meanest departments, may weaken and perhaps destroy all energy in the highest offices of the state.  The gorging a royal kitchen may stint and famish the negotiations of a kingdom.  Therefore the object was worthy of his, was worthy of any man’s attention.

In consequence of this noble lord’s resolution, (as he told the other House,) he reduced several tables, and put the persons entitled to them upon board wages, much to their own satisfaction.  But, unluckily, subsequent duties requiring constant attendance, it was not possible to prevent their being fed where they were employed:  and thus this first step towards economy doubled the expense.

There was another disaster far more doleful than this.  I shall state it, as the cause of that misfortune lies at the bottom of almost all our prodigality.  Lord Talbot attempted to reform the kitchen; but such, as he well observed, is the consequence of having duty done by one person whilst another enjoys the emoluments, that he found himself frustrated in all his designs.  On that rock his whole adventure split, his whole scheme of economy was dashed to pieces.  His department became more expensive than ever; the civil list debt accumulated.  Why?  It was truly from a cause which, though perfectly adequate to the effect, one would not have instantly guessed.  It was because the turnspit in the king’s kitchen was a member of Parliament![36] The king’s domestic servants were all undone, his tradesmen remained unpaid and became bankrupt,—­because the turnspit of the king’s kitchen was a member of Parliament.  His Majesty’s slumbers were interrupted, his pillow was stuffed with thorns, and his peace of mind entirely broken,—­because the king’s turnspit was a member of Parliament.  The judges were unpaid, the justice of the kingdom bent and gave way, the foreign ministers remained inactive and unprovided, the system of Europe was dissolved, the chain of our alliances was broken, all the wheels of government at home and abroad were stopped,—­because the king’s turnspit was a member of Parliament.