Circe

In Short

This dramatic fantasy reimagines the classic encounter between the Greek hero Ulysses and the enchantress Circe. Set on a remote island, the play follows the tension between Circe’s desire to keep her guests in a state of tranquil, enchanted indulgence and the men’s mounting need to return to their former lives. Through lyrical dialogue and the interplay of divine influence, it explores the cost of forgetting one's past. It remains a notable work for its focus on the internal conflicts of the crew and the melancholic wisdom of its titular sorceress.

The Story

The narrative begins on Circe’s island, a place of lush bowers and perpetual ease, where the enchantress and her nymphs maintain a "tranquil sweet companionship" by neutralizing incoming mortals with potions. Ulysses and his crew, having survived the horrors of Polyphemus and the treachery of the winds, arrive exhausted. Eurylochus, the mate, is the first to encounter the sorceress, witnessing his companions transformed into swine before he flees to warn his commander.

Armed with an antidote—the herb moly—provided by the god Mercury, Ulysses ascends to the palace. Rather than falling under the sorceress's thrall, he compels her to restore his men. Circe, intrigued by this man who can resist her, agrees. A year of uneasy feasting follows. While the crew enjoys the wine and the company of the nymphs, a quiet, growing tension emerges. Ulysses, though respectful of his hostess, is haunted by the duty to return to Ithaca.

The plot thickens with the romantic complications of the crew. Two sailors, Philemon and Xenias, fall in love with two of Circe’s nymphs, Philinna and Thermia. Attempting to force a future together, the men plot to kidnap Philinna by drugging her with a sleep-inducing plant and smuggling her onto the ship. Circe, alerted to the scheme by her watchful nymphs, orchestrates a counter-measure. She allows the drama to play out to teach the men a lesson about the nature of love and the fleeting quality of their "enchanted" respite.

As the time for departure arrives, Mercury returns to guide the men. The final act sees the resolution of the kidnapping plot: the men are brought to their senses, and the couples are reconciled under the watchful, if saddened, gaze of their mistress. The play concludes with a poignant farewell. Ulysses acknowledges the profound impact of his time on the island, admitting that one who has not known Circe’s spell has not fully known life. As the men depart for the open sea, Circe is left alone, her wand set aside, gazing into the distance after her guest, marking the end of a transformative, if temporary, intersection of mortal duty and divine enchantment.

How It Unfolds

The arrival of the wayfarers The crew, weary from their previous encounters with giants and storms, lands on the island and immediately feels the disorientation of the place. They attempt to maintain their order and hierarchy, but the island’s atmosphere begins to dull their memories and sharpen their appetites for rest.

The transformation of the men Eurylochus describes the terrifying moment his comrades were turned into swine by the enchantress. He alone remains untransformed, setting the stage for Ulysses to intervene with the god-given antidote.

The meeting of wills Ulysses approaches the palace, where he is met by the enchantress. Through the power of the moly plant, he stands his ground, compelling her to show respect for his humanity and his command.

The year of revelry A season passes in a state of suspended animation, where the men live in a daze of feasting and song. The narrative shifts focus to the nymphs and the sailors, highlighting the friction between human desire and the sorceress's controlled environment.

The failed abduction Philemon and Xenias attempt to steal Philinna away, setting the stage for a climactic realization. The plan is foiled not through force, but through the intervention of the nymphs and the inevitable return of the crew’s sense of duty.

The final departure Mercury leads the men back to their ship as the spell of the island breaks. Ulysses offers a final, respectful farewell to Circe, acknowledging the wisdom he gained from their encounter.

The People

Ulysses appears as a fatherly, prudent figure, defined by his unwavering desire to return home and his cautious, analytical mind. He is the only character capable of meeting Circe on her own terms, using the divine moly not just as a tool, but as a bridge to secure his men's safety. Circe is portrayed with surprising warmth; she is not merely a villain, but a guardian of a "bowery summit" who views her magic as a necessary filter against the chaos of the human world. She learns as much from Ulysses as he does from her. Philinna, a nymph, is the heart of the romantic subplot; she is caught between her devotion to Circe and her growing, reckless love for the mortal Philemon. Her vulnerability forces the play’s final emotional confrontation. Eurylochus serves as the voice of traditional caution and fear, his perspective acting as a foil to the more nuanced, philosophical outlook of his captain.

In Its Own Voice

"No second coming, save in four-footed guise, thy hand vouchsafes them."

Philinna explains to Circe the grim fate that awaits the men who dare to approach her mansion for a second time.

"Black at the root, milk-white the flower; ’tis moly: so to the immortals known; of men, scarce found."

Mercury provides Ulysses with the magical antidote necessary to withstand the sorceress's potions.

"He knows not life, who knows not CIRCE’S spell."

Ulysses offers a parting reflection, acknowledging the deep and indelible mark his time with the enchantress has left upon him.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is a meditation on the tension between the comfort of oblivion and the necessity of struggle. It argues that human life—with all its "frowning storm-clouds"—is defined by the "forward glance" and the refusal to linger in the past. The island is not just a trap; it is a mirror. It forces the men to confront their own "bestial habits" and their inability to live in the present without the crutch of enchantment. Ultimately, it poses the question of whether a life of perfect, painless ease is truly life at all, or merely a "wearisome slow life" that robs the spirit of its purpose.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the rhythmic, elevated language of early 20th-century dramatic poetry will find much to admire here. It feels like a stage play meant for reading aloud, where the dialogue is as much about musicality as it is about plot. You will appreciate it if you have a fondness for classical mythology but desire a fresh, human-centered perspective on the familiar tropes of the Odyssey.

The book is not without its hurdles. The period language—full of "prithees" and stylized, formal speech—may feel distant at first, and the humor among the sailors is decidedly of a specific, rugged, and somewhat archaic variety. Those looking for a fast-paced thriller will find the slow, reflective pacing of the palace scenes challenging. However, the emotional payoff in the final scenes is quiet and surprisingly resonant. It lingers in the mind as a study of the bittersweet nature of departures and the profound, lingering influence of those we meet, even if only for a season. If you are interested in how authors of a century ago interpreted ancient legends to ask modern questions about love, duty, and the seduction of an easy life, this piece offers a refined and thoughtful experience.