When Iceland adopted Christianity in the year 1000, eating horsemeat became part of the negotiations over which traditions could survive. Andrea Maraschi examines how food, faith and identity shaped the compromises of conversion in the medieval North.
By Andrea Maraschi
Iceland became a Christian country by law in 1000, when the Alþingi, a forum for judicial and legislative matters and the centre of a unified society founded on freedom, decided that the traditional pagan cults be abandoned.
In the previous decades, a series of Christian missionaries from the Continent, reinforced by repeated efforts of the Norwegian king Óláfr Tryggvason, had failed to Christianize the Icelanders. Interestingly, when it finally took place, the conversion did so under odd circumstances.
Located in a marginal area of the known world, though probably not as climatically hostile as it would become later, the island had been characterised by a conservative attitude towards the cultural origins of its settlers. This forced the Church to adopt a seemingly tolerant strategy, as had already occurred in many other episodes of conversion, from Gregory the Great with the Anglo-Saxons to Pope Nicholas I with the Bulgars. In such cases, the most effective solution was a compromise between old heathen traditions and new Christian rules.
Horsemeat and the Terms of Conversion
A page from Íslendingabók (The Book of Icelanders), written by Ari Þorgilsson in the early 12th century. The surviving manuscript, AM 113 a fol., is a 17th-century copy of this important account of Iceland’s early history and settlement. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
Food was one of the key elements involved in the negotiation. In Íslendingabók, the first written history of the Icelanders, dating between 1122 and 1133, the Icelandic chronicler, cleric, and chieftain Ari Þorgilsson wrote that his people had been initially allowed to stick to a few traditional customs that were part of their identity, namely sacrifices to the gods (but only in a private environment), the exposure of children, and the consumption of horsemeat:
It was then proclaimed in the laws that all people should be Christian, and that those in this country who had not yet been baptised should receive baptism; but the old laws should stand as regards the exposure of children and the eating of horseflesh. People had the right to sacrifice in secret, if they wished, but it would be punishable by the lesser outlawry if witnesses were produced. A few years later, they abolished these heathen provisions, like the others.
The aforesaid practices were abandoned a few years after the conversion and were formally abolished by Óláfr II Haraldsson (Saint Óláfr, †1030). It has been argued that such concessions had economic reasons and took into account the peculiar difficulties of life on a remote island. This notwithstanding, dietary dispensation could also be read from an identity-related perspective. Horse flesh was (and still is) commonly consumed in Iceland, and at the same time, horses were sacrificed to the heathen gods and used in pagan (and later Christian) burials. In other words, it would have been extremely risky to deprive Icelanders of an important element in their daily lives.
It is worth noting that Ari’s account is confirmed by later important Icelandic sagas, such as Njáls saga and Kristni saga, with no substantial discrepancies. However, Ari probably offers a biased version of the event – either intentionally, or due to the nature of his sources. But all in all, since the distance between the time of the conversion and Ari’s work could be covered by two generations, his narrative may be considered fairly reliable, though it seems more like a personal account rather than a purely objective one.
This being said, some scholars deem Ari’s work an essential resource to reconstruct the mentalities – if not always the history – of Iceland at the time of the conversion. But then one main question arises: “How is it that horsemeat figures on a level of importance with infanticide, or with sacrificing to the old gods?” as William Miller wondered. There is little doubt that the consumption of horses represented a highly significant act among northern peoples, as was the case in Anglo-Saxon England, for instance. And even if horsemeat was not always related to pagan practices, the Church discouraged this practice just because it typically saw it in this way.
Why did the Church oppose Horsemeat?
An Icelandic horse, a breed descended from horses brought to Iceland by Norse settlers during the Viking Age. Photo by MichaD / Wikimedia Commons
From the perspective of the Christian authorities, there was little doubt that the consumption of horse flesh was to be banned. It did not appear in the lists of abominable foods in Leviticus and Deuteronomy, even though horses were not kosher (“clean”) by nature, since they had the wrong type of hoof. However, as it has been noted in the case of Iceland, pagans sacrificed and consumed horsemeat in antiquity and in early medieval times, and the Church may well have needed to draw a line between Christians and horse-eating heathens.
Signals of this attitude seem to have become apparent in the eighth century, but they may be misleading. In 732, Pope Gregory III wrote an epistle to the archbishop Boniface of Mainz in which he dwelt on pagan dietary customs; he overtly condemned the consumption of both wild and tame horse flesh, calling it a “filthy and abominable” custom. (That area of central Germany must have represented a sensitive spot, as in 751 Boniface received another letter, this time from Pope Zachary, in which the latter confirmed the ban on the meat of “wild horses”.) This attitude aligned with the Canones Hibernenses, one of the oldest collections of European canon law, which harshly punished hippophagia with four years of penitence on bread and water. In general, however, the Church seems to have opted for an overall tolerant approach.
However, Gregory’s and Zachary’s letters were hardly as influential as later decretals, and their circulation may have been limited. Furthermore, the Church’s role in the consumption of horsemeat in medieval Europe should not be overstressed, because archaeological evidence from late antique and medieval Gaul shows that hippophagy continued throughout the period. Horsemeat was surely consumed in continental Europe in Merovingian and Carolingian times, and its consumption eventually decreased after the ninth century. All in all, hippophagy may have already been a marginal practice in the West at the time of the aforementioned bans.
Kings, Feasts and Resistance to Christianity
A Romanesque figure of Christ from a church in northern Iceland, dating to around 1200. Now in the collection of the National Museum of Iceland in Reykjavík. Photo by Triptychon / Wikimedia Commons.
In Iceland, though, horsemeat seems to have played a peculiar role in the transition to Christianity in the North. In Hákonar saga góða, Snorri Sturluson tells us that during one of the yearly major assemblies in Frosta, the Christian king Hákon góði (c.940–960) tried to convince his people to convert to Christianity. The farmers of Trøndelag reacted negatively, and they asked him instead to make sacrifices to the heathen gods for peace and prosperity. It was then decided to arrange a sacrificial feast in Hlaðir, but the king’s behaviour looked equivocal to the farmers: in fact, Hákon made the sign of the cross over the sacrificial horn (and was excused only because it was mistaken for the sign of Þórr’s hammer).
More serious issues arose when the king was supposed to eat the horsemeat. “He by no means wanted to do so,” writes Snorri, and he similarly refused to eat the gravy or the fat. The situation was critical, as Hákon risked being assaulted by his people. The solution was proposed by Jarl Sigurðr, who suggested that the king lean over the handle of the pot in order to “breathe” the steam coming from the inside. The handle was covered with fat, and the king wrapped it in linen cloth. Then he did as Jarl Sigurðr had said, but – according to Snorri – neither side was pleased by this compromise. Nevertheless, during a later ceremonial feast at Yule in Mæri, the chieftains and farmers forced him to eat a few pieces of horse liver and to drink several toasts without making the sign of the cross.
The Christian aversion to eating horses parallels that of eating pets, and one could argue that horses may have held a special place in the animal kingdom, a more intimate one with man. However, the refusal to consume the flesh of pets is hardly a universal human trait, and archaeological finds in both mainland Scandinavia and in Iceland show that both dogs and horses were often buried alongside men and women in pagan graves.
In the early-fourteenth-century Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, Norwegians who most strenuously opposed the conversion to Christianity were deeply concerned about the ban on horsemeat, since it was a staple food. They would have been deprived of a fundamental source of nourishment, so much so that they “could not imagine raising all the children born, both the rich and poor”. Maybe such a statement is too emphatic: the source is a literary text, and it must be handled with care, especially because it was composed a few hundred years after the conversion. Yet it indicates that Scandinavia’s case is more complex than the rest of Europe. Here, Christianity may have needed to find better compromises, and political authorities fought more harshly against supposedly pagan rituals because the connection between them and horses was perhaps deeper than elsewhere.
Horsemeat, Identity and the Icelandic Sagas
In Icelandic legendary sagas from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, horsemeat and human flesh were the favourites of “giants”, that is, of creatures embodying the ideas of barbarity, Otherness, uncivilization. Although fornaldarsögur had the purpose of entertaining the audience, these texts were written down by Christians and drew upon cultural values that had to be relatable for the audience; interestingly, horsemeat emerges as one of the staples of the diet of such monstrous creatures, alongside the other forbidden food par excellence: human flesh. It is then worth wondering whether horsemeat may have had a stronger pagan (i.e., traditional) significance in the North than in the rest of Europe.
Andrea Maraschi holds a BA degree in Modern Humanities (2008), an MA degree in Medieval History (2010), and a PhD in Medieval History from the University of Bologna (2013). From 2014 to 2017, he was a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Iceland. From 2018 to 2021, he taught Medieval History and the Social and Economic History of the Middle Ages at the University of Bari. He has published work on many aspects connected with food in medieval times, such as banqueting, religious symbolism, and magical practice, and his research interests include gender, astrology, astronomy, cultural memory, and mythology.
Further Readings:
Grønlie, Siân, editor. Íslendingabók, Kristni saga: The Book of the Icelanders, The Story of the Conversion. Viking Society for Northern Research, 2006.
Montanari, Massimo. Medieval Tastes: Food, Cooking, and the Table. Columbia University Press, 2015.
Lorans, Élisabeth, editor. Le cheval au Moyen Âge. Rabelais, 2017.
When Iceland adopted Christianity in the year 1000, eating horsemeat became part of the negotiations over which traditions could survive. Andrea Maraschi examines how food, faith and identity shaped the compromises of conversion in the medieval North.
By Andrea Maraschi
Iceland became a Christian country by law in 1000, when the Alþingi, a forum for judicial and legislative matters and the centre of a unified society founded on freedom, decided that the traditional pagan cults be abandoned.
In the previous decades, a series of Christian missionaries from the Continent, reinforced by repeated efforts of the Norwegian king Óláfr Tryggvason, had failed to Christianize the Icelanders. Interestingly, when it finally took place, the conversion did so under odd circumstances.
Located in a marginal area of the known world, though probably not as climatically hostile as it would become later, the island had been characterised by a conservative attitude towards the cultural origins of its settlers. This forced the Church to adopt a seemingly tolerant strategy, as had already occurred in many other episodes of conversion, from Gregory the Great with the Anglo-Saxons to Pope Nicholas I with the Bulgars. In such cases, the most effective solution was a compromise between old heathen traditions and new Christian rules.
Horsemeat and the Terms of Conversion
Food was one of the key elements involved in the negotiation. In Íslendingabók, the first written history of the Icelanders, dating between 1122 and 1133, the Icelandic chronicler, cleric, and chieftain Ari Þorgilsson wrote that his people had been initially allowed to stick to a few traditional customs that were part of their identity, namely sacrifices to the gods (but only in a private environment), the exposure of children, and the consumption of horsemeat:
It was then proclaimed in the laws that all people should be Christian, and that those in this country who had not yet been baptised should receive baptism; but the old laws should stand as regards the exposure of children and the eating of horseflesh. People had the right to sacrifice in secret, if they wished, but it would be punishable by the lesser outlawry if witnesses were produced. A few years later, they abolished these heathen provisions, like the others.
The aforesaid practices were abandoned a few years after the conversion and were formally abolished by Óláfr II Haraldsson (Saint Óláfr, †1030). It has been argued that such concessions had economic reasons and took into account the peculiar difficulties of life on a remote island. This notwithstanding, dietary dispensation could also be read from an identity-related perspective. Horse flesh was (and still is) commonly consumed in Iceland, and at the same time, horses were sacrificed to the heathen gods and used in pagan (and later Christian) burials. In other words, it would have been extremely risky to deprive Icelanders of an important element in their daily lives.
It is worth noting that Ari’s account is confirmed by later important Icelandic sagas, such as Njáls saga and Kristni saga, with no substantial discrepancies. However, Ari probably offers a biased version of the event – either intentionally, or due to the nature of his sources. But all in all, since the distance between the time of the conversion and Ari’s work could be covered by two generations, his narrative may be considered fairly reliable, though it seems more like a personal account rather than a purely objective one.
This being said, some scholars deem Ari’s work an essential resource to reconstruct the mentalities – if not always the history – of Iceland at the time of the conversion. But then one main question arises: “How is it that horsemeat figures on a level of importance with infanticide, or with sacrificing to the old gods?” as William Miller wondered. There is little doubt that the consumption of horses represented a highly significant act among northern peoples, as was the case in Anglo-Saxon England, for instance. And even if horsemeat was not always related to pagan practices, the Church discouraged this practice just because it typically saw it in this way.
Why did the Church oppose Horsemeat?
From the perspective of the Christian authorities, there was little doubt that the consumption of horse flesh was to be banned. It did not appear in the lists of abominable foods in Leviticus and Deuteronomy, even though horses were not kosher (“clean”) by nature, since they had the wrong type of hoof. However, as it has been noted in the case of Iceland, pagans sacrificed and consumed horsemeat in antiquity and in early medieval times, and the Church may well have needed to draw a line between Christians and horse-eating heathens.
Signals of this attitude seem to have become apparent in the eighth century, but they may be misleading. In 732, Pope Gregory III wrote an epistle to the archbishop Boniface of Mainz in which he dwelt on pagan dietary customs; he overtly condemned the consumption of both wild and tame horse flesh, calling it a “filthy and abominable” custom. (That area of central Germany must have represented a sensitive spot, as in 751 Boniface received another letter, this time from Pope Zachary, in which the latter confirmed the ban on the meat of “wild horses”.) This attitude aligned with the Canones Hibernenses, one of the oldest collections of European canon law, which harshly punished hippophagia with four years of penitence on bread and water. In general, however, the Church seems to have opted for an overall tolerant approach.
However, Gregory’s and Zachary’s letters were hardly as influential as later decretals, and their circulation may have been limited. Furthermore, the Church’s role in the consumption of horsemeat in medieval Europe should not be overstressed, because archaeological evidence from late antique and medieval Gaul shows that hippophagy continued throughout the period. Horsemeat was surely consumed in continental Europe in Merovingian and Carolingian times, and its consumption eventually decreased after the ninth century. All in all, hippophagy may have already been a marginal practice in the West at the time of the aforementioned bans.
Kings, Feasts and Resistance to Christianity
In Iceland, though, horsemeat seems to have played a peculiar role in the transition to Christianity in the North. In Hákonar saga góða, Snorri Sturluson tells us that during one of the yearly major assemblies in Frosta, the Christian king Hákon góði (c.940–960) tried to convince his people to convert to Christianity. The farmers of Trøndelag reacted negatively, and they asked him instead to make sacrifices to the heathen gods for peace and prosperity. It was then decided to arrange a sacrificial feast in Hlaðir, but the king’s behaviour looked equivocal to the farmers: in fact, Hákon made the sign of the cross over the sacrificial horn (and was excused only because it was mistaken for the sign of Þórr’s hammer).
More serious issues arose when the king was supposed to eat the horsemeat. “He by no means wanted to do so,” writes Snorri, and he similarly refused to eat the gravy or the fat. The situation was critical, as Hákon risked being assaulted by his people. The solution was proposed by Jarl Sigurðr, who suggested that the king lean over the handle of the pot in order to “breathe” the steam coming from the inside. The handle was covered with fat, and the king wrapped it in linen cloth. Then he did as Jarl Sigurðr had said, but – according to Snorri – neither side was pleased by this compromise. Nevertheless, during a later ceremonial feast at Yule in Mæri, the chieftains and farmers forced him to eat a few pieces of horse liver and to drink several toasts without making the sign of the cross.
The Christian aversion to eating horses parallels that of eating pets, and one could argue that horses may have held a special place in the animal kingdom, a more intimate one with man. However, the refusal to consume the flesh of pets is hardly a universal human trait, and archaeological finds in both mainland Scandinavia and in Iceland show that both dogs and horses were often buried alongside men and women in pagan graves.
In the early-fourteenth-century Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, Norwegians who most strenuously opposed the conversion to Christianity were deeply concerned about the ban on horsemeat, since it was a staple food. They would have been deprived of a fundamental source of nourishment, so much so that they “could not imagine raising all the children born, both the rich and poor”. Maybe such a statement is too emphatic: the source is a literary text, and it must be handled with care, especially because it was composed a few hundred years after the conversion. Yet it indicates that Scandinavia’s case is more complex than the rest of Europe. Here, Christianity may have needed to find better compromises, and political authorities fought more harshly against supposedly pagan rituals because the connection between them and horses was perhaps deeper than elsewhere.
Horsemeat, Identity and the Icelandic Sagas
In Icelandic legendary sagas from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, horsemeat and human flesh were the favourites of “giants”, that is, of creatures embodying the ideas of barbarity, Otherness, uncivilization. Although fornaldarsögur had the purpose of entertaining the audience, these texts were written down by Christians and drew upon cultural values that had to be relatable for the audience; interestingly, horsemeat emerges as one of the staples of the diet of such monstrous creatures, alongside the other forbidden food par excellence: human flesh. It is then worth wondering whether horsemeat may have had a stronger pagan (i.e., traditional) significance in the North than in the rest of Europe.
Andrea Maraschi holds a BA degree in Modern Humanities (2008), an MA degree in Medieval History (2010), and a PhD in Medieval History from the University of Bologna (2013). From 2014 to 2017, he was a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Iceland. From 2018 to 2021, he taught Medieval History and the Social and Economic History of the Middle Ages at the University of Bari. He has published work on many aspects connected with food in medieval times, such as banqueting, religious symbolism, and magical practice, and his research interests include gender, astrology, astronomy, cultural memory, and mythology.
Further Readings:
Grønlie, Siân, editor. Íslendingabók, Kristni saga: The Book of the Icelanders, The Story of the Conversion. Viking Society for Northern Research, 2006.
Montanari, Massimo. Medieval Tastes: Food, Cooking, and the Table. Columbia University Press, 2015.
Lorans, Élisabeth, editor. Le cheval au Moyen Âge. Rabelais, 2017.
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