Henrietta In The Snow At The Temple

THE SIGMA DP1 TOTALLY FAILED DURING MY NEXT VISIT TO BRUSSELS

I knew that I photographed this statue but I could never find the original images until I realised that my Sigma DP1 had incorrectly date stamped the photographs as 9 April 2009 instead of 6 January 2010.

PARKS AND GARDENS

* Botanic Gardens Belfast * Phoenix Park In Dublin * Merrion Square Park

Henrietta in the Snow at the Temple: The Last Days of a Very Old Statue

• For a long time, the original photographs of a singular Dublin landmark seemed entirely lost in a sprawling digital archive. The hunt only ended when a technical quirk came to light: when a classic Sigma DP1 camera completely loses its battery charge, the internal clock resets and defaults back to its firmware base date. Unbeknownst to the operator at the time, this camera issue misdated a series of winter photographs as 9 April 2009, when they were actually captured on the crisp morning of 6 January 2010.

• That bitter week in January 2010 witnessed one of the most severe winter cold waves in modern Irish history. Met Éireann records later confirmed that the first ten days of that month were the coldest the Dublin area had experienced since 1963. A journey home from a photography trip to Brussels resulted in being stranded at the airport for 24 hours when Dublin Airport effectively shut down due to unprecedented freezing temperatures and heavy snow.

• After finally navigating the travel chaos across Europe and arriving back in Dublin city centre at 2:00 AM on Friday, 8 January, a photographic walk through the local neighbourhood the following morning was a natural next step.

• The ground was completely blanketed, and King’s Inns Park—known affectionately to locals as "the Temple"—was covered in pristine, heavy snow. Standing proudly against the winter sky was a weathered stone figure. Just over two years later, she would be gone forever.

The Tragic Fate of 'Henrietta': How a Film Truck Undid 230 Years of Dublin History

• To the casual passer-by strolling through the Temple grounds off Constitution Hill today, the empty plinth might look like a minor, nameless casualty of urban decay. Some have even argued that the missing statue had little artistic value. However, the history of this lone figure—affectionately dubbed "Henrietta" by residents of the area but formally sculpted as an allegory of Truth—reveals a heritage that survived the foundational violence of the Irish State, only to be modernly undone by the logistics of a movie production. For those fortunate enough to capture her on film before her sudden disappearance, she stands as a poignant reminder of how fragile street-level material history truly is.

A Masterpiece Born of Enlightenment Dublin

• "Truth" was far from a minor piece of modern garden ornamentation; she was an authentic late 18th-century work deeply tied to the grandest architectural era of the city. Sculpted in the 1780s or 1790s from Portland stone, the work is attributed to the circle of James Gandon, the visionary architect behind the Custom House and the Four Courts, and Edward Smyth, Dublin's premier neoclassical sculptor.

• The statue originally stood as part of the decorative, symbolic fabric of the Four Courts on Inns Quay. From that prominent vantage point, she stood as a silent witness to the legal, political, and social upheavals of the 19th century.

Surviving the Civil War Bombardment

• When the Irish Civil War erupted in June 1922, the Four Courts became the main stronghold for anti-Treaty forces. The subsequent bombardment by National Army artillery and the catastrophic explosion of the Public Record Office completely gutted the complex. While centuries of irreplaceable legal records evaporated into smoke and magnificent interior carvings were turned to ash, "Truth" miraculously survived.

• She emerged from the shellfire and smoke without a scratch. Following the conflict, when the courts were rebuilt and reconfigured, the intact statue was relocated to the safety of the gardens at the Honorable Society of King’s Inns, sitting peacefully just steps from Henrietta Street.

Toppled by the Silver Screen

• By the 21st century, the timeless, untouched Georgian architecture of Henrietta Street and the Temple had turned the area into a regular extension of busy film studios, frequently standing in for Victorian London or historic Dublin.

• In April 2012, while a production crew was active in the locality, a large facility vehicle backed into the plinth. The impact toppled the 230-year-old Portland stone sculpture, slamming her onto the tarmac. The fall shattered her into pieces and severed her head.

The Aftermath and Neglect

• The destruction sparked immediate local outrage, notably championed by independent councillor Mannix Flynn, who raised formal inquiries with Dublin City Council. For over a year following the incident, fragments of the masterpiece were reportedly left in the car park under minimal protection, covered only by sacking and occasionally defaced with stray paint. Eventually, the Office of Public Works and King's Inns authorities confirmed that all surviving fragments—including the head—had been gathered and moved into secure internal storage within King's Inns to protect them from further vandalism or weathering.

The "Out of Place" Replacements: The Three Graces of Irish Industry

• Following the tragic loss of "Henrietta," a group of three female classical figures was installed in King's Inns Park. They bring a remarkably deep and well-travelled history that perfectly aligns with a keen interest in urban archaeology and industrial heritage.

• While a common local myth claimed these figures were merely props left behind by a film crew, they are actually authentic, late 19th-century allegorical stone sculptures. Carved in 1872, they were originally commissioned for the Great Industrial Exhibition held at Earlsfort Terrace, on the site where the National Concert Hall stands today. They were sculpted specifically to celebrate the foundation of the nation's economy, explicitly representing Irish Manufactures in Wood, Metal, and Stone.

• Before arriving on the northside, these statues spent decades in a pocket park near Dame Street. They were prominently situated in Millennium Park—which was later redesigned and renamed Barnardo Square—the plaza directly beside Dublin City Hall at the top of Dame Street. For years, they sat clustered together in the centre of a decorative water pond on that site.

• When Barnardo Square was cleared and flattened into its current open, stone-paved configuration, the statues were uprooted. Seeking a fitting home for them, authorities relocated the trio to the Temple. They were installed on a new, modern concrete plinth just down the path from the famous "Hungry Tree".

• Their installation was not without local controversy. Councillor Mannix Flynn, who fiercely championed the investigation into Henrietta's destruction, vocally criticised the move. He noted that while the industrial statues themselves were historically significant, installing them as a single block on a heavy, modern concrete plinth felt architecturally "out of place" within the delicate, historic layout of the King's Inns grounds.

• Though Henrietta no longer graces the park, the photographs taken of her amidst the historic snow of January 2010 remain vital historical records. They capture a resilient survivor of Irish history that withstood artillery shells, only to be brought down by a reversing delivery truck—leaving a trio of 19th-century industrial wanderers to stand in her place.

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A SELECTION OF HIGH RESOLUTION PHOTO GALLERIES

* February 2026: High Resolution Images * April 2026: High Resolution Images * May 2026: High Resolution Images