Turnerelli, unluckily for himself, thereafter entertained the chimerical idea of presenting the golden laurel chaplet to Lord Beaconsfield, estimating that the cost of each leaf would be about £5. He succeeded, at any rate, in convincing sceptical people that there were at least 52,000 Conservative working men in the country. The wreath was made by Messrs. Hunt and Roskell, who put it on exhibition at their rooms. It was also shown to the Prince of Wales and other members of the Royal Family before being exhibited at the Crystal Palace. Turnerelli’s own explanation of Lord Beaconsfield’s refusal to accept the wreath was a curious one. He stated that a “high legal functionary” warned Lord Beaconsfield that the wreath was a typical “Imperial diadem” which could only be loyally offered to a sovereign, and that it would be an insult to the Crown if a subject were to accept such a gift. This same legal authority, Turnerelli said, reminded him that the promoter of such a presentation would have been consigned, in previous reigns, to the Tower of London. These warnings came too late for Turnerelli, who, had he known about them sooner, might have substituted an inoffensive golden inkstand or a pair of golden candlesticks. But the wreath was allowed to go on to completion, to be put on exhibition, and to be written about in a light and fleering spirit; while the statesman to whom it was to be presented offered no remonstrance until the pennies of the 52,000 working men had been spent on it. Flippant people suggested that the whole affair was a “plant” on Turnerelli’s part to win from Lord Beaconsfield some honour or emolument; but those who knew Turnerelli well scouted this insinuation, and attributed the whole proceeding to the guileless sincerity of the man. Had he never embarked upon the wreath project, he might have preserved some reputation as a writer of topical political verse and pamphlets. The wreath, however, may serve to preserve his memory longer, as an episode in the life of the great Conservative statesman whom he artlessly, rather than artfully, desired to honour. In a curious last will and testament Turnerelli said: “I leave the gold laurel wreath to the nation, provided my generous friends the Conservatives will help me to cover the hundred and fifty pounds or thereabouts I have personally expended upon it.” To a Birmingham gentleman, with whom he had almost completed negotiations for the sale of the wreath for £245, he wrote: “By the advice of influential friends I have determined to let Madame Tussaud & Sons have the privilege of exhibiting the wreath.” Turnerelli compensated the Birmingham would-be purchaser for alleged breach of contract. _Punch_, of the 22nd of November, 1879, contained the following: “What the Wreath has come to.--The brows of Lord Beaconsfield at Madame Tussaud’s. _Punch_ said it would, and it has.”