Most of Copenhagen's government-run museums are closed on Mondays, and as the weather was glorious today, Elias and I spent the entire afternoon at the Botanical Gardens. A royal charter established the gardens in 1600; the current garden plan dates to 1867. After watching an illiterate fer'ner get chewed out by garden staff for actually loafing
on the grass, we decided to take our own brief snooze on a bench.
Copenhagen is a city of statues, whether inside museums such as the Glyptotek, or outside in the spacious gardens and numerous squares. The most curious statue we saw in the Botanical Gardens was one of Athena giving a big thumbs-up to a centaur's patina-free private parts. The statue's obvious classicism and the bucolic setting suggested it was supposed to edify rather than raise eyebrows. Indeed, a little Googling reveals that the ancients often depicted Athena, goddess of wisdom, with a centaur, to contrast reason with man's savage tendencies. But still....
On our walk home, we came across a statue entitled "Nilen," featuring a bearded male with fifteen of those frighteningly precocious babies clambering over him. Additional Googling reveals the bronze is a copy of an ancient Roman sculpture at the Vatican. I hope it is some consolation to the Danish to suppose "The Nile" might have inspired Nielsen's "
Water Mother."
Copenhagen's statuary is by no means limited to classical themes. Generations of Danish royalty can be found in various spots around town, as can three Hans Christian Andersens. An imposing equestrian statue of Copenhagen's founder, the warrior bishop Absalon (1128-1201), stands high above Højbro Plads. Before Copenhagen could be founded, of course, the island on which it rests--Zealand--had to be
ploughed out of Sweden overnight by the Norse goddess Gefion. Fortunately, she was able to turn her four brawny sons into oxen to handle the job, a feat memorialized in Langlinie park.
Most of Copenhagen's government-run museums are closed on Mondays, and as the weather was glorious today, Elias and I spent the entire afternoon at the Botanical Gardens. A royal charter established the gardens in 1600; the current garden plan dates to 1867. After watching an illiterate fer'ner get chewed out by garden staff for actually loafing on the grass, we decided to take our own brief snooze on a bench.
Copenhagen is a city of statues, whether inside museums such as the Glyptotek, or outside in the spacious gardens and numerous squares. The most curious statue we saw in the Botanical Gardens was one of Athena giving a big thumbs-up to a centaur's patina-free private parts. The statue's obvious classicism and the bucolic setting suggested it was supposed to edify rather than raise eyebrows. Indeed, a little Googling reveals that the ancients often depicted Athena, goddess of wisdom, with a centaur, to contrast reason with man's savage tendencies. But still....
On our walk home, we came across a statue entitled "Nilen," featuring a bearded male with fifteen of those frighteningly precocious babies clambering over him. Additional Googling reveals the bronze is a copy of an ancient Roman sculpture at the Vatican. I hope it is some consolation to the Danish to suppose "The Nile" might have inspired Nielsen's "Water Mother."
Copenhagen's statuary is by no means limited to classical themes. Generations of Danish royalty can be found in various spots around town, as can three Hans Christian Andersens. An imposing equestrian statue of Copenhagen's founder, the warrior bishop Absalon (1128-1201), stands high above Højbro Plads. Before Copenhagen could be founded, of course, the island on which it rests--Zealand--had to be 
ploughed out of Sweden overnight by the Norse goddess Gefion. Fortunately, she was able to turn her four brawny sons into oxen to handle the job, a feat memorialized in Langlinie park.
