You’ve seen the photos. You know the story—or at least the Disney version with the singing crabs and the happy ending. But when you finally stand on the Langelinie promenade in Copenhagen, looking out at the water, there’s usually a collective "Oh."
It’s small. Really small.
Basically, the little mermaid sculpture is about the size of a real human being, standing only 1.25 meters (about 4 feet) tall. She’s not some towering colossus like the Statue of Liberty. She’s a modest, bronze figure perched on a granite rock, and honestly, that’s exactly why she’s so fascinating. People expect a monument; what they get is a quiet, melancholic piece of art that has survived more trauma than most action movie heroes.
The Weird, True History of the Little Mermaid Sculpture
Back in 1909, Carl Jacobsen—the guy who founded Carlsberg beer—went to the Royal Danish Theatre and saw a ballet. It was based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale, and Jacobsen was so obsessed with the lead ballerina, Ellen Price, that he decided the city needed a statue of her.
He hired sculptor Edvard Eriksen for the job.
Here’s where it gets kinda awkward: Price was down to be the face of the mermaid, but she flat-out refused to pose nude. So, Eriksen had to ask his wife, Eline, to step in and model for the body. If you look closely at the face, you’re seeing a famous ballerina from the early 1900s, but the rest? That’s Eline Eriksen.
When it was finally unveiled on August 23, 1913, nobody knew it would become the most targeted piece of art in Europe.
Why People Keep Attacking Her
You wouldn't think a bronze mermaid would be a lightning rod for political rage, but she’s been through the ringer. Since the 1960s, she’s become a go-to canvas for protesters.
Let's look at her "medical record":
- 1964: Her head was sawn off and stolen. It was never found. They had to cast a new one from the original molds.
- 1984: Two guys sawn off her right arm. They actually brought it back two days later, claiming it was just a drunken prank.
- 1998: Another beheading. This time, the head was returned anonymously to a TV station.
- 2003: Vandals literally used explosives to blast her off her rock. She was found floating in the harbor.
She’s been doused in red paint to protest whaling, green paint for Women's Day, and even dressed in a burqa to protest Turkey’s EU bid. In 2020, someone spray-painted "Racist Fish" on her rock, which left most Danes scratching their heads because, well, she’s a fictional sea creature from 1837.
What Most People Miss
If you grew up with the 1989 Disney movie, the expression on the little mermaid sculpture might confuse you. She doesn't look like she's about to burst into a song about gadgets and gizmos. She looks devastated.
That’s because the original story by Hans Christian Andersen is a total downer. In the book, every step she takes on her human legs feels like walking on sharp knives. The prince marries someone else, and she eventually dissolves into sea foam.
The sculpture captures that specific moment of transition—the longing and the literal weight of her sacrifice. That’s why she has two tails (often called a "twin-tail" design). It's a nod to her being caught between two worlds, neither fully human nor fully fish.
Visiting in 2026: A Realist’s Guide
Look, if you go at 2:00 PM on a Saturday in July, you’re going to have a bad time. You’ll be fighting through a wall of selfie sticks and tour groups.
To actually see the little mermaid sculpture without the chaos, you’ve gotta be a morning person. Aim for 7:30 AM. The light hitting the water at the Langelinie pier is beautiful then, and you might actually get a moment of silence to appreciate the craftsmanship.
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Pro-tip for the walk: Don't just stare at the mermaid. Just a few minutes away is Kastellet, one of the best-preserved star-shaped fortresses in Northern Europe. It’s free to walk through, and the contrast between the military ramparts and the delicate statue is pretty cool.
Also, keep your expectations in check. She’s small. She’s bronze. She’s often surrounded by people. But she’s survived being blown up, decapitated, and painted every color of the rainbow, and she’s still sitting there, gazing at the sea.
There’s a weirdly inspiring resilience in that.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
- Take the Water Bus: Instead of the long walk, take the yellow harbor bus (line 991 or 992). It’s cheap, uses the same ticket as the metro, and gives you a great view from the water.
- Check the "Original": Technically, the one on the rock is a copy. The Eriksen family keeps the original in a secret location to protect it from further vandalism. If you want to see authorized smaller replicas, head to the Glyptoteket museum.
- Combine with the Gefion Fountain: It’s way bigger, way more dramatic, and right next door. Most people walk right past it to get to the mermaid, but the fountain tells a wild story about a goddess turning her sons into oxen to plow the island of Zealand into existence.
- Download the "StoryHunt" app: It has some decent local lore about the specific vandalism incidents that you won't find on the official plaques.
If you’re heading to Copenhagen, the little mermaid sculpture is a mandatory stop, but don't make it your only stop. See her for what she is: a quiet, battered piece of history that represents the city's ability to keep picking itself back up.
Walk further down the pier toward the Royal Playhouse or Nyhavn afterward. The walk along the water is honestly better than the statue itself. You’ll see the Opera House across the way and get a real sense of why Copenhagen is so obsessed with its harbor. Just watch out for the bikes—Danish cyclists don't stop for anyone, not even mermaid fans.