Circe

The Titan Prometheus, Circe’s uncle, is being punished for giving mortals fire. Unlike the others, Prometheus not only disobeyed Zeus for the benefit of humans but also confessed to the crime himself. This is widely regarded as a stupid decision beyond understanding, but the Titans view his punishment as a sign that Zeus intends to move against them. They secretly whisper about a mutiny against the Olympians.

To Circe’s surprise, no one greets Prometheus, but all take pleasure in watching him be whipped—except Circe, who empathizes with his pain. As the spectators grow bored of his pain and leave to feast, Circe brings her suffering uncle a cup of nectar to drink. Circe asks what mortals are like, and her uncle answers, “There is no single answer. They are each different. They only thing they share is death” (22). Circe cannot understand death yet; she’s never seen a mortal or experienced mortality or even physical suffering. She reflects, “I did not know the color of my blood” (20). Despite her fears that she will be caught, no one notices her absence, which forces her to confront her own insignificance and childishness. She has a sudden, rudimentary thought, like a child realizing its limbs are its own: “[A]ll my life had been murk and depths, but I was not a part of that dark water. I was a creature within it” (24).

The nymphs, gods, and Titans all discuss Prometheus’s punishment with cruel fascination, sickening Circe, who continues to endure taunts from her relatives about her undesirability and worthlessness. Soon, her mother bears another child, whom Circe volunteers to raise. She names him Aeëtes, “eagle,” and is overwhelmed by her love for him: “Every moment he was with me, I felt a rushing in my throat, which was my love for him, so great sometimes I could not speak” (27). For the first time, Circe believes her love is returned, as his first word is her name and his second is “sister.”

A precocious and insightful child, Aeëtes displays wisdom and perceptiveness from a young age and swiftly becomes Helios’s favored heir. As he grows up, he and Circe remain inseparable, discovering an island and regularly escaping to it to avoid their family. In their discussions, Aeëtes introduces a concept that will change the course of Circe’s life—the existence of herbs with magical properties called pharmaka. Circe tells him about Prometheus; Aeëtes then points out that, as a god of prophecy, Prometheus knew what would happen to him and chose to do it anyway. He tells her not to mention it to anyone else, as her kindness could get her killed.

Per Helios’s orders, Pasiphaë marries Minos, the king of Crete, who happens to be the son of Zeus. At the wedding, Circe sees mortals for the first time, who seem “weak as mushroom gills” (32). Still, she acknowledges that despite the many tales of humans wronging nymphs, there are also stories of the gods wronging humans, once again hinting at the gods’ lack of empathy. Aeëtes announces that Helios is giving him a kingdom—Colchis—and he will be leaving for it after the wedding. Circe is heartbroken that the only person who loves her is throwing her away for preeminence and freedom. He says nothing more to her before leaving, but face says it all—she is not a good enough reason to stay. Perses leaves for Persia since his playmate sister is gone, and Circe goes to the island she discovered with Aeëtes, lonely and desperate. She sees a boat approach the island.

Circe meets Glaucos, her first up-close encounter with a mortal. She is initially cautious, as mortals have been known to rape nymphs, but he is soft-looking and her father is in the sky, and she trusts that Helios will protect her if needed. Circe is surprised to find that Glaucos fears her despite her comparative weakness as a goddess. Lonely and curious, she tries to assure him that he is in no danger from her. She notes that “it was [her] laughter, more than [her] protestation, that seemed to ease him a little” (38). He returns every day with her permission to spend time with her. For the first time, Circe feels “warm” in the light of companionship and his regard for her: “I had stood beside my father’s light. I had held Aeëtes in my arms, and my bed was heaped with thick wool blankets woven by immortal hands. But it was not until that moment that I think I had ever been warm” (38).

With honeyed words, Glaucos finds himself in her affections. One day he returns angry, saying that he cannot come back because he has wasted too much time with her instead of fishing to provide food and money for his father and mother. He says it is his fault they will starve. Lacking the power to bless his nets herself, Circe goes to her grandmother, Tethys, who agrees to fill his nets if Circe swears not to lie with him. Circe swears, the nets overflow, and Glaucos is grateful and affectionate. His hints at love and marriage remind Circe that he is mortal and will therefore die. Frantic at the thought of losing her beloved, Circe returns to her grandmother to beg that Glaucos be made a god. She insists there must be some way—some pharmaka—to make it so. Tethys angrily demands Circe never mention such wickedness again. Ignoring the mockery of her grandmother’s attendants, Circe is determined to make Glaucos immortal: “I was too wild to feel any shame. It was true. I would not just uproot the world, but tear it, burn it, do any evil I could to keep Glaucos by my side” (46).

Based off of her grandmother’s reaction to the word, Circe infers that pharmaka must have powers beyond the gods and resolves to find such a plant and make Glaucos a god so she can always be with him. Taking a page from her mother’s book, she plies her uncles with wine and compliments until they tell her of “places that had been sown with gods’ blood” (46), where she can find pharmaka. They mention one not far from Glaucos’s home.

Circe brings Glaucos to the island with the pharmaka flowers under the guise of a picnic. He takes a nap and she tries using them to turn him into a god, but it doesn’t work. Suddenly, she has the revelation that the plant’s strength was in its sap, which could transform any creature into its truest self. She feeds it to the sleeping Glaucos, who becomes a sea god. Thrilled, Circe brings him to Tethys. Everyone believes it to be the will of the fates and they heap praises upon him. Circe reflects that she “saw nothing but the boy that [she] loved shining at last. Every honor lavished on him, every altar built in his name, every admirer who crowded him, these felt like gifts to [her], for he was [hers]” (52).

Circe expects that his implied promises of devotion made when he was mortal will hold and that she will marry him and be happy. Instead, he rejects her and proposes marriage to a beautiful nymph named Scylla. Heartbroken, Circe laments that her immortality means she cannot die and will have to live with her pain:

I lay on the dirt, weeping. Those flowers had made him his true being, which was blue, and finned, and not mine. I thought I would die of such pain, which was not like the seeping numbness Aeëtes had left behind, but sharp and fierce as a blade through my chest. But of course I could not die. I would live on, through each scalding moment to the next. This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh (55).

Instead of wallowing forever in her misery, Circe decides that if Scylla is removed as an obstacle, then she and Glaucos can be happy together. She puts the pharmaka sap into the waters where Scylla bathes. Circe fully expects to be punished—whipped like Prometheus—but thinks that such injuries would only prove her love to Glaucos.

Despite her initial worries that the sap has not worked, Circe soon discovers through the gossip mill that Scylla has become a monster. She turned gray, sprouted twelve squid-like legs and five new heads, and swam away, baying like a hunting dog. At first, Circe is concerned that Scylla’s friends and relatives will harm her in vengeance, but everyone is fascinated by the event’s cruelty and novelty. They insult the absent Scylla and tell the story over and over again for their amusement. When Glaucos arrives, Helios takes him aside to explain what has happened, reminding him that there are plenty of other pretty nymphs. Glaucos seems to agree as he goes on to sire countless children with a thousand nymphs—none of them Circe.

Burdened by guilt over what she has done to Scylla, Circe remembers Prometheus and tells herself she is not like those who would have relished a turn at the whip. His voice, as her conscience, rings in her ears, saying, “Then you must think, Circe. What would they not do?” (61). Immediately, she knows that she must confess. At first no one believes her. They mock her for being stupid enough to believe herself powerful, saying, “If the world contained the power you allege, do you think it would fall to such as you to discover it?” (63). When she insists she is speaking the truth, Helios rages at her, insulting her and burning her for her audacity. Blistered, half-blind, and with melted hands, Circe returns to the island where she found the flowers and considers taking the herbs. In the end, she decides she cannot bear to know what she truly is.

Aeëtes soon arrives, having heard of Circe’s power, and explains that her confession was true. He tells everyone about pharmakeia, the art of using “herbs with the power to work changes in the world” (67), and how all of their siblings have such power. Pasiphaë has mastered poisons in Crete, Perses raises the dead in Persia, and Aeëtes demonstrates his own power by healing Circe’s wounds—something only the greatest gods can do. This disruption of expectation terrifies them all. Aeëtes tells Circe that pharmakeia, witchcraft, is not bound by the usual limits on the gods’ powers. He also points out that it was her intention that shaped Scylla and Glaucos’s transformations, not the pharmaka plants. He says, “You do not think it convenient that their truest forms should happen to be your desires?” (70).

Perse gloats about being the mother of witches and how she will have a hundred more children who will take over Olympus, but when Helios returns from meeting with Zeus, a very different future is planned. He states that his most of children are far away and did not search for their powers, which are under control—except Circe, who sought her powers despite warnings and used them to defy Helios and harm her own kind. As punishment, she is exiled to a deserted island. To Perse’s chagrin, Helios asserts they will have no more children together. Already an outcast, Circe packs her things. Aeëtes appears and tells her it’s her fault for confessing, which is unfathomable to him. Circe thinks that if he had seen Prometheus whipped, he would understand.