At the time of the winter solstice, the ancient Britons, accompanied by their priests, the Druids, went out with great pomp and rejoicing to gather the mistletoe, which was believed to possess great curative powers. These processions were usually by night, to the accompaniment of flaring torches and the solemn chanting of the people. When an oak was reached on which the parasite grew, the company paused.
Two white bulls were bound to the tree and the chief Druid, clothed in white to signify purity, climbed, more or less gracefully, to the plant. It was severed from the oak, and another priest, standing below, caught it in the folds of his robe. The bulls were then sacrificed, and often, alas, human victims also. The mistletoe thus gathered was divided into small portions and distributed among the people. The tiny sprays were fastened above the doors of the houses, as propitiation to the sylvan deities during the cold season.
These rites were retained throughout the Roman occupation of Great Britain, and for some time afterward, under the sovereignty of the Jutes, the Saxons, and the Angles.
In Scandinavian mythology there is a beautiful legend of the mistletoe. Balder, the god of poetry, the son of Odin and Friga, one day told his mother that he had dreamed his death was near at hand. Much alarmed, the mother invoked all the powers of nature—earth, air, water, fire, animals and plants, and obtained from them a solemn oath that they would do her son no harm.
Then Balder fearlessly took his place in the combats of the gods and fought unharmed while showers of arrows were falling all about him.
His enemy, Loake, determined to discover the secret of his invulnerability, and, disguising himself as an old woman, went to the mother with a question of the reason of his immunity. Friga answered that she had made a charm and invoked all nature to keep from injuring her son.
“Indeed,” said the old woman, “and did you ask all the animals and plants? There are so many, it seems impossible.”
“All but one,” answered Friga proudly; “all but a little insignificant plant which grows upon the bark of the oak. This I did not think of invoking, since so small a thing could do no harm.”
Much delighted, Loake went away and gathered mistletoe. Then he entered the assembly of the gods and made his way to the blind Heda.
“Why do you not shoot with the arrows at Balder?” asked Loake.