Because Queen Pirouette’s predecessor had lived so long, the number of people who could remember a time before him could be counted on one hand. While the old King had maintained his vigor well into his mid-seventies, as the years rolled by, he grew increasingly decrepit. By the time he finally died, the image of the king as a poor, doddering, half-blind, half-deaf invalid.
Even so, Pirouette decided early on to erect a column that would describe in detailed relief all of the accomplishments of his reign. From all of the sketches and portraits of the old king, from childhood to decrepitude, she chose a pen and ink rendition of the king when he was just becoming elderly, but still possessed all of his faculties. There he was, sharp-eyed, a bit stern and in absolute control of the levers of power. From this flat, two-dimensional depiction of the old king would be fashioned a bronze sculpture to crown the top of the great column. This was just the beginning of an era of building, great building, that would be attributed to the new, young Queen.