Anonymous asked:
I’ve been wondering lately if there is much discussion in norse myth/lore along the theme of “gluttony” or discussion of cultural views regarding what we may now view as gluttony (particularly related to food)? You seem like the person to ask such a broad question – you have such thorough knowledge it seems.
This is a very peculiar topic, but I quite like that. My first impression, after doing some research, reading, and thinking, is that gluttony as we understand it today (which is a fairly Christianized concept) does not quite stand in Norse mythology and lore. There was, however, a fairly similar social expectation for food to be shared with others. A traveller, for example, was to be given lodgings, and that often included a meal, as well; guests are meant to be given food and a host must not withhold, or else he or she is a poor host. Yet, there does not seem to have been a set amount on how much had to be shared. A host could have more food than the entire local community put together, but he or she (because women often controlled the food, which was no small task, mind you) did not have to divide it out and be left with the same amount as the rest. They simply had to share it when the social situation demanded it of them. There is a case in Njal’s Saga where a man refuses to share food during a famine, yet that man was not charged with gluttony by the author (although the thought may have crossed his mind). Instead, he was threatened with rán, an unsociable act of theft that typically resulted in a feud. In theory, the concepts of gluttony and this social expectation have the same function within a society, but the cultural ‘essence’ behind them is a bit different.
To answer this properly, though, we must consider at least two things: our sources and who wrote them. Much of Norse mythology is contained within two books, the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda, but bits of mythology are also scattered throughout other sources, such as Ynglinga saga and Volsunga saga. When considering themes such as gluttony in Norse mythology, we must first consider the authors who composed those texts, because we must ask ourselves whether or not they would have been concerned about gluttony to begin with. So, before jumping into the myths themselves, we should consider the cultural views of those who put the myths into writing, and how this society understood such a concept. For simplification, we will only focus on two sources for Norse mythology: the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda, since they are the most cohesive sources that we have regarding Norse mythology.
The answer is quite long (perhaps even the longest that I have produced), and I hope that does not bother you. I had originally placed the information under a ‘keep reading’ tab, but it was not working properly for some people, and so I have since removed that. It is a fascinating topic in general, but there is much to be learned about the historical process here as well because I have constructed this answer as a progression of thought rather than just a definitive argument. That said, though, the answer may not be as straightforward as desired.
A DISCUSSION OF GLUTTONY IN NORSE MYTHOLOGY:
DEFINING GLUTTONY
Pinpointing the exact origin of an abstract concept is always a difficult feat to undertake, and so finding an actual ‘origin’ may be an unfavorable place to begin. Yet, our understanding of gluttony as being a negative practice of excessive consumption does not actually seem to be a natural part of Norse mythology itself. Rather, it seems more likely to have been ‘seeded’ into the myths through Christianity. This does not mean that gluttony is completely irrelevant in terms of Norse mythology, though, because much of our material has indeed passed through Christianity’s filter. Thus, to discuss the role of gluttony in Norse mythology, we must first remind ourselves where gluttony as we view it today (as a sin, or as a negative behavioral trait in general) began, but also how this concept would have been understood in their own time.
To get into the medieval mind a bit, I am going to bring up a few biblical verses about gluttony from the Douey-Rheims’ translation of the Latin Vulgate (with the Latin text first, followed by the English translation). Although it is not directly applicable to Norse mythology, it will allow us to better understand the concepts affecting the minds of our medieval authors.
Isaiah 22:12-14
“Et ecce gaudium et laetitia, occidere vitulos et jugulare arietes, comedere carnes, et bibere vinum: comedamus et bibamus, cras enim moriemur. Et revelata est in auribus meis vox Domini exercituum: Si dimittetur iniquitas haec vobis donec moriamini, dicit Dominus Deus exercituum.”
“And behold joy and gladness, killing calves, and slaying rams, eating flesh, and drinking wine: Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we shall die. And the voice of the Lord of hosts was revealed in my ears: Surely this iniquity shall not be forgiven you till you die, saith the Lord God of hosts.”
Zachariah 7: 4-6
“Et factum est verbum Domini exercituum ad me, dicens: Loquere ad omnem populum terrae, et ad sacerdotes, dicens: Cum jejunaretis, et plangeretis in quinto et septimo per hos septuaginta annos, numquid jejunium jejunastis mihi? Et cum comedistis et bibistis, numquid non vobis comedistis et vobismetipsis bibistis?”
“And the word of the Lord of hosts came to me, saying: Speak to all the people of the land, and to the priests, saying: When you fasted, and mourned in the fifth and the seventh month for these seventy years: did you keep a fast unto me? And when you did eat and drink, did you not eat for yourselves, and drink for yourselves?”
Given just these verses about gluttony, and assuming that this was not a similar concept to be found in pre-Christian nordic lore or society, we can deduce that gluttony, if it were to appear in the Nordic myths of the Eddas and sagas, would be excessive consumption with an emphasis on selfishness. If our medieval authors were ecclesiastically trained, or at least familiar with the writing and copying of Latin texts and thus intimately familiar with biblical verse and Christian culture, then this would have been, generally speaking, what gluttony may have ‘looked’ like in their minds.
Now, there are several complications involved with this, but the most important of these is that our authors are often anonymous, meaning that we cannot be sure they would have such intimate familiarity with a biblical definition of gluttony. There are only two sources out of the four mentioned above that have a comfortably known author, and that is Snorri Sturluson and his Prose Edda and Ynglinga saga(contained within his larger work, Heimskringla). Yet, given the tone and treatments of certain subjects, it is possibly to assume, within reason, whether or not an anonymous author had a ‘Christian-oriented’ mind based on their use of language and narration style, or tone. The anonymous author of Hrolf Kraki’s Saga, for example, clearly demonstrates the Christian mind through his treatment of how that saga, and Hrolf’s final battle, came to a close.
Discussing Christian themes in these sources is tricky business, because they are not solely Christian nor are they solely pre-Cristian; they are blends of old and new, and thus separating them becomes rather difficult. Assuming gluttony to be a Christian-only concept, for example, is one such difficulty. Our lack of sources to help confirm a pre-Christian Nordic tradition regarding excessive food consumption or hoarding is another. And yet, assuming that pre-Christian Nordic lore had such a concept at all, and that such a concept held a similar negative context, would also be dangerous, because many of our source have passed through that Christianized filter. Even when looking at sources that perhaps did not pass through that filter, such as a runestone, there is still the filter of our own, contemporary minds to worry about. In fact, equating the Cristian-based understanding of gluttony that western society holds today (which has a long-rooted history) to a possible, similar concept in pre-Christian Nordic lore also brings us insecurities.
Yet, these debates will not be able to get us anywhere at the moment, for they obviously involve a long, winding path to a place we do not intend to walk to. My lack of knowledge in terms of gluttony in the pre-medieval Nordic world, or rather in any place outside of the Christian-medieval mind, could also be holding us back from a more concrete answer. Instead, it may be best to keep these complication in mind and move forward into the texts themselves.
WEAVING OLD AND NEW: SNORRI STURLUSON
A good place to begin such a broad journey is with the most secure source. When I say ‘secure’, though, I mean it in a fairly specific way. In terms of this answer, secure means that we know the author and date of the work in question. Since we know that Snorri Sturluson played a major role in writing down much of Norse mythology and lore, he is a suitable place to begin a discussion about themes of gluttony. Not only does he provide us with a time period to work off of, but also a voice.
Snorri Sturluson, born at Hvamm (in western Iceland) in 1179, was a historian, poet, and politician. Although he was a very secular man, caught up in matters far removed from traditional ecclesiastical concerns, Snorri was a learned and Christian author. Yet, he was not a cleric, unlike many other Icelandic writers during this time.1 Still, considering his Prologue, one could hardly argue that Snorri was completely detached from Christian learning. He wrote in the thirteenth century, which was a time of great political, economic, and social change for Iceland. The Church, for example, had gained more power and authority in Iceland (it was a native Church, but eventually becomes very much Norwegian, which, in turn, was more continental). While this happened, the Church “attacked the traditional power of secular chieftains,” which Snorri himself was.2
While all of this turmoil unfolded, Snorri seemed concerned about his traditional succumbing to new order. As early as the twelfth century, at least, Latin stories, such a saints’ lives and chivalric romances, were being translated in Iceland.3 It is likely that Snorri saw this as superseding the tradition of the skalds, which could have been one motivation for writing his Prose Edda; he wanted to encourage his contemporaries to compose traditional poetry with traditional (and new) material and thus keep the art form alive and well. In such a sense, his Prose Edda truly does become a blend of cultures, which explains his purpose for aligning Norse mythology and lore to the newly encompassing Christian realm. In form, at least, the Prose Edda owes much to the influx of Latin works, particularly of Latin learned treaties.4
In the end, although Snorri was passionate about his traditions, he was still a Christian, which means that Christian elements could have made their way into the retelling. Even though he was no ecclesiastically trained, he had to have been taught by someone who was (and if not he, the one before him). Even so, he lived in a Christian world, not a pagan one. His purpose was not to revive heathenry, but to revive the traditions within a Christian framework. He did not do this in a religious sense, though; his work is fairly detached and impartial. Even in the Skáldskaparmál, for example, he warns his readers against actually believing in the material.5 Thus, it is quite likely, then, that Christian themes like gluttony could have made their way into certain stories, whether consciously or subconsciously. Having this temporal context in mind, as well as Snorri’s personal ‘voice’, we might be able to unravel the question of gluttony a bit more easily.
SOCIALIZING WITH GLUTTONY IN THE PROSE EDDA
The Prose Edda, despite its many flaws, is “the only comprehensive account of Norse mythology from the Middle Ages.”6 Yet, even if Snorri’s work was not particularly influential in his own time, it is definitely foundational to our understanding of Norse mythology today. In considering the theme of gluttony, though, there are several portions of lore that concern food and consumption in particular, especially in Valhalla and at feasts. The problem we will begin to run into is that food is often being referred to in a magical and ideal sense; when food is mentioned, it is among gods, not men. In the realm of the heavens there is no shortage of food and thus no shame in abundance, for all have an endless supply. This is suggested by the nature of food in Valhalla:
“…there will never be such a large number in Val-hall that the meat of the boar Sæhrimnir will not be sufficient for them. It is cooked each day and whole again by evening.”7
In the Norse world, there seemed to have been a slightly different importance placed on food than there is in Christendom. For example, as the Hávamál will later attest to, there is a social expectation for the wealthy to hold great feasts for their guests, although these guests are often of high class themselves. Although this next portion of the lore does not say that a gluttonous man is to be shamed, it does suggest that a non-providing host would be shamed in a similar fashion:
“This is a strange question you are asking, whether All-father would invite kings and earls and other men of rank to his house and would give them water to drink, and I swear by my faith that there comes many a one to Val-hall who would think he had paid a high price for his drink or water if there were no better cheer to be got there, when he had previously endured wounds and agony leading to his death. There is a goat called Heidrun standing on top of Val-hall feeding on the foliage from the branches of that tree whose name is well known, it is called Lerad, and from the goat’s udder flows mead with which it fills a vat each day. This is so big that all the Einherjar can drink their fill from it.”8
Although ending once more on a magical and idealistic source, such a passage begins with a strong tradition in providing food for guests of rank. Not only that, though, but it is expected that the host provide more than mere water. This, of course, is skewed to upper strata thinking, but still indicates an significance being imposed upon the nature of food. In terms of excess, though, there does not seem to be any negativity surrounding it, although there is an expectation that it should be shared with your guests. This is a bit different from gluttony, though, and so I would not be quick to consider them to be the same concept. The punishment for not sharing in excess is not considered to be sinful, but rather it is considered unsociable; a host does necessarily not need to provide for the needy, but for his guests.
This guest-host custom is actually a bit more complicated than that, though. It is not solely fixated on food, nor is it only a practice among the wealthy. In sticking to mythological material only, there is an instance in which Thor and Loki are guests in a peasant’s home:
“In the evening they arrived at a peasant’s house and were given a night’s lodging there. During the evening Thor took his goats and slaughtered them both. After this they were skinned and put in a pot. When it was cooked Thor sat down to his evening meal, he and his companion. Thor invited the peasant and his wife and their children to share the meal with him.”9
This bit of lore actually brings even more complexity into the question concerning gluttony. For one thing, Thor is able to bring an unlimited food source to their table, because his goats can be sacrificed and brought back to life if treated properly. Yet, Snorri has also been very removed from these stories and thus does not offer much elaboration on their meanings. Thor shares the meal with the peasants, which could suggest that it was expected that one should share their food. If gluttony is selfishly hoarding and consuming food, then this social expectation to share food with others could suggest the possibility of a more social-based gluttony, rather than the moral and religious based understanding of gluttony that we have procured from Christianity.
Things begin to change once we consider the stories told in the Skáldskaparmál, though, which is not terribly surprising considering that there is speculation that Snorri wrote this portion of his Prose Edda before the Gylfaginning, meaning that it could easily contain a slightly different intent. It also has a different purpose than the Gylfaginning, because it aims to instruct a contemporary audience on applying mythology to contemporary skaldic practice, whereas the Gylfaginning was much more like a contextual background for the Skáldskaparmál. Literary debates aside, there is a more ‘active’ take on food customs from the very beginning of the Skáldskaparmál, when Loki is enraged that a giant eagle was being rather gluttonous:
“…it let itself from from the tree and sat on the oven and to begin with immediately put away the ox’s two hams and both shoulders. Then Loki got angry and snatched up a great pole and swung it with all his strength and drove it at the eagle’s body.”10
I used the word ‘gluttonous’ a bit carelessly, but it is clear that Loki is upset (and rightfully so) because the eagle was selfish about his portion of the meal, which was meant to be shared. Of course, this tale may have a different intention overall, but this is still an evident moment where the selfish indulgence of food causes strife. Yet, it is still within the frameworks of an unsociable act, rather than a sinful act that would result in some spiritual damnation. We could debate this, though. If a person is a bad host, are they not punished by some divine force? In Hrolf Kraki’s Saga, Odin, disguised as a traveler named Hrani, puts King Hrolf’s behavior as a guest to the test. King Hrolf fails to accept Hrani’s gifts with appreciation, resulting in Odin denying him victory in a battle yet to come. Thus, a divine force could punish a person for not adhering to a social custom. This, however, did not involve food, which is a key difference between the Norse guest-host custom and gluttony; it does not have to be about food.
Taking a step back, though, there was never a heavy distinction placed between religion and society in the pre-Christian Nordic world; they were very much connected and inseparable. Even from a scientific viewpoint, religion and morality have a social function; they are ‘created’ to ensure that a group can work together more easily. The difference we have begun to observe, then, comes down to where the theme of gluttony is applied; is gluttony a spiritual failure or is gluttony an unsociable act? Although the Norse custom of guest-host behavior could involve food, and when it does it seems similar to the Christian notion of gluttony that we hold today, one could argue that the Norse had different connotations associated with it. Still, in the end, a sinful gluttony and an unsociable gluttony have the same role in a society, which is to ensure that food is shared when others are in need. I strongly advice against equating the two, though. The Nordic notion of guest-host behavior was not exactly the same as the Christian theme of gluttony, especially because that custom was not founded in food alone.
Having discussed these intricacies, we should be able to read our next example a bit more cautiously. In the Skáldskaparmál, Odin boasts about his horse, Sleipnir, to a giant named Hrungnir. In a “giant fury”, he chased Odin all the way into Valhalla, even getting past the gates! Since he had arrived, the Æsir treat him as a proper guest, for that is the guest-host custom that must be kept, even between gods and giant. Nonetheless, here is how Hrungnir behaves:
“…when he got to the hall doors, Æsir invited him in for a drink. He went into the hall and demanded that he should be given a drink. Then the goblets that Thor normally drank out of were brought out, and Hrungnir drained each one. And when he became drunk there was not lack of big words: he said he was going to remove Val-hall and take it to Giantland, but bury Asgard and kill all the gods, except that he was going to take Freyja and Sif home with him, and Freyja was the only one then who dared to bring him drink, and he declared he was going to drink all the Æsir’s ale.”11
After this, the Æsir have Thor come into the hall with his hammer. They are unable to fight right away, though, because they must work around the social norms and customs that regulate guest treatment and host responsibilities. Eventually they do fight, and the Æsir are ‘avenged’. When we consider Hrungnir’s actions, he did two things that led to his ‘downfall’: he consumed more than was respectful and he cast various threats to those acting as his hosts. As a result, food is not the only issue here, although it clearly is a part of the problem. He was gluttonous in nature, but it was this in combination with poor guest habits that truly caused the violation.
Overall, these various examples from the lore preserved within the Prose Edda paint a complicated picture of ‘gluttony’ in Norse mythology. If gluttony is “excessive consumption with an emphasis on selfishness,” then there are indeed elements that do resemble gluttony. The giant eagle was selfish in his portion of food, which resulted in Loki being angered and attacking him. The giant eagle’s behavior was clearly a selfishness derived from excessive consumption, but more importantly of the best cuts of meat. Hrungnir was completely selfish in his consumption of the Æsir’s ale, which also encouraged anger among his hosts. Yet, this was also packaged with various, unsociable insults. Thus, there was a concept of gluttony in the Norse traditions of the Prose Edda, but this concept was not the gluttony that we know today. It may appear in a similar form, but it is intermingled with various other unique social norms and practices; food was never the only factor.
FOOD AND THE GUEST-HOST NORM IN HÁVAMÁL
Now that we have looked deeply into this theme as it appears in the Prose Edda, we will turn to the Poetic Edda to better define what we have observed. Although the Poetic Edda consists of a great variety of poetry, this discussion will mostly be centered around the Hávamál. Not only will that poem serve to help us better understand this guest-host norm, but it also has a bit more to say about excessive consumption in regards to both food and drink. Of course, this perspective will complicate things, because it would be wise to remind ourselves of the caution that should be taken. The poems in the Poetic Edda are considered older material, but they were still written and compiled much later, in the 1270s, by far-removed hands; they are not free from possible alterations.
Most scholars agree that the mythological material contained in these poems is largely unaltered, but the social backing may have not gotten off as easily. Mythology, and the beliefs involved therein, were never standard nor stagnant; practice and belief varied on the basis of both region and time. As far as we know, “the localized nature of cults and rituals produced neither dogma nor sacred texts.”12 Thus, the contents of the Hávamál, for example, which has much to say about the doings of guests and hosts, may have been speaking more to a thirteenth-century audience using older, mythological motifs. We do not know the author who compiled these poems, nor do we actually know when and where these poems actually originated for certain. Such a claim (concerning a thirteenth-century influence) would require a lengthy discussion, though. The point I wish to make is that this material could be a blend of old and new, and that it would be unwise to assume otherwise. Although many of these norms have roots in a more distant past, they have not gone through time unchanged.
With that having been said, we shall turn our attention to this guest-host norm. The very beginning of Hávamál concerns the expectations of a proper host. When considering food, the host is expected to share; it would be viewed negatively if the host were to selfishly withhold food from a guest in need. Yet, even though this is fairly similar to gluttony, it still alludes us; it cannot fit nicely into our box. Nonetheless, here are the stanzas:
“ ‘Blessed by the givers!’ A guest has come in,
where is he going to sit?
He’s in great hast, the one who by the log-stack
is going to try his luck.“Fire is needed for someone who’s come in
and who’s chilled to the knee;
food and clothing are necessary for the man
who’s journeyed over the mountains.“Water is needful for someone who comes to meal,
a towel and a warm welcome,
a friendly disposition, if he could get it,
speech and silence in return.”13
A guest ought to be brought in, warmed up with fire, given towels and clothes, provided with water and a meal, and given a friendly welcome and stay. When considering the theme of gluttony in the Prose Edda, these were the many of the other expectations that were intermixed with the importance of sharing in food. The Æsir had to be proper hosts for Hrungnir, after all, despite his poor behavior. Considering this list, though, food actually plays a far less significant role in this custom; gluttony, on the other hand, is solely fixated on food. The theme of food is present within this guest-host norm, but it is not central.
So what made Hrungnir a poor guest in terms of consumption? We know that he was insulting and unkind to his gracious hosts, but there was still the concern of his excessive consumption. His consumption habits also had far more to do with alcohol than with food. The Hávamál has much to say about consuming too much alcohol:
“No better burden a man bears on the road
than a store of common sense;
no worse journey-provision could he carry over the plain
than over-much drinking of ale.”“It isn’t as good as it’s said to be,
ale, for the sons of men;
for the more a man drinks, the less he knows
about his own mind.”“The forgetfulness-heron it’s called
who hovers over ale-drinking;
he steal’s a man’s mind;
with the bird’s feathers I was fettered
in the court of Gunnlod.”“Drunk I was, I was more than drunk
at wise Fialar’s;
that’s the best about ale-drinking that afterwards
every man gets his mind back again.”14
It is important to mention that these stanzas do not morally condemn those who drink too excessively. Rather, these lines carry the tone of guidance for a wise man to avoid being a foolish one; the emphasis is always on the mind. It is about what is ‘logical’ behavior and what will bring a man greater struggle and hardship. This is quite different from the Christianized theme of gluttony that western society holds today, which is generally rooted in morality and religious failure. Yet, this does not mean that a Christian author (or reader) would not have drawn a parallel between these stanzas and the theme of gluttony.
There is something to be said about food in particular as well, which is rather peculiar since drinking is often the focus, not food; there is much less concern about food, for there are many more stanzas about excessive drinking than there are about the excessive consumption of food. The Hávamál, however, does have something to say about food, although nothing very concrete. Here are the examples:
“The greedy man, unless he guards against this tendency,
will eat himself into lifelong trouble;
often when he comes among the wise,
the foolish man’s stomach is laughed at.”“Cattle know when they ought to go home,
and then they leave the pasture;
but the foolish man never figures
the measure of his own stomach.”15
These are, perhaps, the most convincing bits of ‘lore’ regarding actual gluttony in Norse mythology (at least out of those examined in this response). Here, Odin (although not actually Odin, but a poet using his ‘image’ to make a point) explicitly says that a man who consumes food to an excessive degree is “greedy.” Furthermore, there is a much more Christian-like tone to the words following that, saying that the man is greedy “unless he guards against this tendency.” That is, the tendency to eat too much. To say that this tendency is gluttony, though, is difficult. Is the poet condemning gluttony specifically here, or is the criticism still fixated on this man’s mind? Although the term ‘greedy’ alludes much more strongly to gluttony, the poem reverts back to ‘unwise’ and ‘foolish’. It is as if the poem briefly scraps the surface of gluttony, but then recedes back into the motif of Odin and his wisdom — from morality to sensibility. More context would be needed to make a definite conclusion (or another long discussion focusing on this specifically).
BRINGING EVERYTHING TOGETHER
Having looked at the Hávamál, then, we are forced to take a step back and bring all of this information together, especially since a lot of material and intricacies have been discussed. Overall, the traces of ‘gluttony’ in Norse mythology have a much stronger basis in social practices than Christian gluttony, which seems to be far more individualistic and self-reflective. In the examples above, themes of gluttony, or gluttony-like scenarios, are interwoven with social norms that relate to food consumption within society. The giant eagle’s ‘gluttony’ was more about an unfair and unbalanced deal; he was to be given a portion, but not to selfishly take whatever he pleased. Hrungnir was ‘gluttonous’ (although mostly in terms of drink), but it was truly his poor behavior after his excessive consumption that led to strife. In all of these tales from the lore, food was never quite the only problem.
In the end, it seems that Norse mythology does not contain the same notion of gluttony that we do today. Some of our medieval authors may have noticed some opportunities to insert the concept into the myths, but they have done surprisingly well at avoiding this. Snorri Sturluson, for example, did his best to remain neutral about the material he was presenting (with the exception, perhaps, being the Prologue). He also had a very specific purpose behind his work. Although we cannot say the same about the Poetic Edda, having an anonymous author and an unclear date of origin (for the poems themselves), that work still shows a similar theme of gluttony that is entangled within social practices and behavior.
To conclude, Norse mythology has a similar theme, but it is skillfully blended with related social norms; we cannot extract a wholly gluttonous scenario or tale. There are a few reasons for this, but it is most important to note that, when approaching material with a ‘non-native’ concept, we must take care not to impose this concept onto the material. The same applies for forcefully removing ‘foreign’ concepts from something that time has permitted to enter it. It is surprising to see that Christian authors like Snorri Sturluson had not imposed this view onto the material when committing it to pen, but less so when considering his motivation behind doing so. In perhaps an unsatisfying response, gluttony is not present within Norse mythology, at least not to the form that it exists within our minds today. Elements of gluttony, though, are present, but they are combined with rather specific social norms. To truly understand the mythology that has been presented to us, and the various concepts that dwell within it, we must carefully consider who wrote them and when they were written. Then, we must be carefully not to alter the lore to serve our own bias or tendencies (at least when speaking in terms of historical practice).
Thank you kindly for asking. I do apologize for the long-winded response, but there are many intricacies and complexities to address. Still, I hope you find something beneficial from reading this response, although it may not be exactly the answer you were looking for.
Footnotes
- Snorri Sturluson, Edda, translated by Anthony Faulkes. (repr., 1987; London: J.M. Dent, 1995), xii. [Free online version] ↩︎
- Ibid. ↩︎
- Ibid., xiii. ↩︎
- Ibid. ↩︎
- Ibid., xvii. “…take this book as scholarly inquiry and entertainment. But these stories are not to be consigned to oblivion or demonstrated to be false, so as to disprove poetry of ancient kennings which major poets have been happy to use. Yet Christian people must not believe in heathen gods, nor in the truth of this account in any other way than that in which it is presented at the beginning of this book, where it is told what happened when mankind went astray from the true faith…” (64-65). ↩︎
- Ibid., xviii. ↩︎
- Ibid., 32. ↩︎
- Ibid., 33. ↩︎
- Ibid., 37-38. ↩︎
- Ibid., 59-60. ↩︎
- Ibid., 77. ↩︎
- Carolyne Larrington trans., The Poetic Edda. (repr., 1996; Oxfrod: Oxford University Press, 2014), xii. ↩︎
- Ibid., 13. (Stanzas 2-4). ↩︎
- Ibid., 14-15. (Stanzas 11-14). ↩︎
- Ibid., 15. (Stanzas 20 and 21). ↩︎
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