You arrive at the Langelinie promenade, expecting something grand. Maybe something that towers over the Baltic Sea. Instead, you find a crowd of people huddled around a rock, pointing their iPhones at a figure that’s barely four feet tall. It’s tiny. Honestly, the Statue of the Little Mermaid is probably the most underwhelming "must-see" landmark in Europe, and yet, it’s also one of the most beloved. It sits there, bronze and weathered, looking out toward the harbor with a sort of quiet, melancholic dignity that somehow survives the thousands of tourists trampling the shoreline every single day.
Why?
Why do we care so much about a 175-kilogram hunk of metal sitting on a granite rock? It’s not just about the Disney movie (which, let’s be real, is way more upbeat than the source material). It’s about a weird mix of Danish brewing history, a heartbroken ballerina, and a century of people trying to blow the thing up.
The Beer King and the Ballerina
Back in 1909, Carl Jacobsen—the guy who founded Carlsberg—was obsessed. He wasn't just obsessed with brewing lager; he was obsessed with the arts. He’d watched a ballet at the Royal Danish Theatre based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale Den lille havfrue. He was so moved by the performance of the prima ballerina, Ellen Price, that he decided Copenhagen needed a permanent tribute to that specific moment of yearning.
Jacobsen commissioned Edvard Eriksen to sculpt it.
Here’s where it gets a bit awkward. Price agreed to model for the face, but she drew the line at posing nude. She was a professional, after all. So, Eriksen had to look elsewhere for the body. He ended up using his wife, Eline Eriksen, as the model for the mermaid's torso. So, when you’re looking at the Statue of the Little Mermaid, you’re actually looking at a composite human—a ballerina’s face on a sculptor’s wife’s body.
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It was unveiled on August 23, 1913.
Since then, it has become the symbol of the city, much like the Statue of Liberty is to New York or the Eiffel Tower is to Paris. But unlike those giants, this one is accessible. You can literally walk out onto the rocks and touch it. You shouldn't, probably, because the rocks are slippery and the water is cold, but you can.
It's Not the Disney Version
If you grew up with the 1989 movie, the real story is a gut punch. Hans Christian Andersen didn’t write "happily ever after." In his version, every step the mermaid takes on land feels like walking on upturned knives. She doesn't get the prince. He marries someone else. She’s given a choice: kill the prince and let his blood drip on her feet to become a mermaid again, or die and turn into sea foam.
She chooses the foam.
Eriksen’s sculpture captures that specific transition. If you look closely at the legs, they haven't quite become human yet. They are sort of "unzipping." Her tail is morphing into feet. It’s a statue of a woman in the middle of a painful, permanent sacrifice. That’s why she looks so sad. She’s not waiting for a kiss; she’s waiting for the end.
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The Most Vandalized Girl in the World
For some reason, this statue is a magnet for chaos. It’s been decapitated, lost its arm, and been covered in paint more times than most city bridges.
- 1964: Her head was sawn off and stolen. It was never recovered. A new one had to be cast from the original molds.
- 1984: Two young men literally sawed off her right arm. They brought it back a few days later, apparently feeling guilty.
- 1998: Headless again. This time, the culprits were never caught, but the head was mysteriously dropped off at a TV station.
- 2003: Someone used explosives to blast her off her rock. She was found floating in the harbor. Imagine being the harbor police and finding a mermaid bobbing in the tide.
- 2017: She was drenched in red paint as a protest against whaling in the Faroe Islands.
Basically, if there’s a political statement to be made in Denmark, people make it by dumping paint on the Statue of the Little Mermaid. She’s been draped in a burka to protest Turkey’s bid to join the EU and had a dildo attached to her hand on International Women's Day. She’s tough, though. The city just cleans her up, patches the bronze, and she goes back to staring at the ships.
What You Need to Know Before You Go
If you’re planning to visit, don't expect a private moment of reflection. It’s a circus. Tour buses drop off fifty people at a time. Everyone wants the same photo.
Timing is everything. Go at sunrise. The light hits the bronze in a way that makes it look almost gold, and the harbor is usually dead quiet. You might get five minutes alone with her before the first cruise ship wakes up. If you go at midday in July, you’ll be fighting through a forest of selfie sticks.
Also, keep your expectations in check regarding the size. She’s 1.25 meters tall. That’s it. People often walk right past her because they’re looking for something the size of a lighthouse. Look down, not up. She sits on a pile of stones at the water's edge, not on a pedestal.
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Getting There
You can walk from Nyhavn, which takes about 20-25 minutes. It’s a nice walk through the Kastellet, which is a star-shaped fortress with a windmill. It’s much more scenic than taking the bus.
The "Other" Mermaids
Copenhagen actually has more than one. If the crowds at the original are too much, check out the Genetically Modified Little Mermaid nearby. It’s a weird, distorted, avant-garde version by Bjørn Nørgaard. It’s part of a larger sculpture group and it’s way less crowded. There's also a male counterpart called Han in Helsingør (about 45 minutes away), who sits in the exact same pose but is made of polished stainless steel.
Why it Still Matters
In a world of massive, ego-driven monuments, there is something oddly touching about a small, vulnerable figure sitting on a rock. Denmark isn't a country of "look at me" architecture. It’s a country of hygge and understated design. The Statue of the Little Mermaid fits that perfectly. She doesn't demand your attention with height; she earns it with her history.
She represents the melancholy of the Danish soul—the idea that beauty often comes with a price. Even if that price is having your head sawn off every thirty years.
Practical Steps for Your Visit
- Check the cruise ship schedule. If three massive ships are in port, the Langelinie area will be impassable. Google "Copenhagen Cruise Ship Arrivals" before you leave your hotel.
- Combine the visit. Don't just go for the statue. Walk through the Kastellet (the Citadel) and visit the Gefion Fountain. The fountain is actually much more impressive in scale and detail than the mermaid.
- Use the water bus. Line 991 or 992 (the yellow boats) will drop you at Nordre Toldbod. It’s a cheap way to see her from the water, which is how she was meant to be viewed.
- Avoid the tourist shops. The little mermaid keychains sold right next to the statue are significantly more expensive than the ones you'll find in the city center or at a local Tiger store.
Don't expect to be blown away by her scale. Expect to be charmed by her resilience. She has survived wars, vandals, and millions of flashes, yet she still sits there, waiting for a prince who is never coming back.