Blog #130: Circe, Sorceresses, and Ancient Greek Magic with Sarah E. Cole

For Halloween in 2026 we are exploring the scary things in Homer’s (and sometimes Nolan’s!) Odyssey. Our writers investigate how the monstrous and mysterious are narrated, adapted, and situated in both ancient and modern societies through the many iterations of this wondrous tale. What are the deeper meanings of these characters and scenes, and why do they continue to captivate us into the twenty-first century?

In the upper register of the krater, we see the moment that Odysseus comes to his men’s rescue. Circe appears at far right and behind her, clattering the ground, are her magic wand and the vessel with which she served the men her drugged concoction. Odysseus draws his sword, threatening her. Behind him, two partially transformed men appear to be scrambling in terrified confusion. One has the head and tail of a wild pig and the other seems to be transforming into a horse or mule. By following Hermes’ instructions, Odysseus is able to pacify Circe and convince her to turn his soldiers back into men.

Throughout this episode, Circe behaves outside the confines of Greek convention. She lives alone surrounded by wild animals; she tricks her guests; she has mysterious knowledge that can overcome men; she is free to engage in a relationship with Odysseus; and her magical acuity makes her potentially dangerous. Odysseus’ yearlong stay on Circe’s island provides a narrative obstacle to his ultimate goal of returning home, presenting the sorceress as someone who keeps a man away from his devoted wife. But Circe is also instrumental in helping Odysseus achieve his ends – it is she who instructs him that he must journey to the realm of the dead and aids him in doing so. Daniel Ogden analyzes Odysseus’ visit to the Underworld in another post in this series, while Brett Rogers explores the Odysseus’ interactions with the dead in the same chapter.

How does Circe’s character reveal Greek attitudes about magic? Circe is a volatile figure whose powers can lead to hindrance or assistance. In Greece, magic was often regarded with suspicion and associated with foreign witches, the Underworld, and spirits of the dead. Although those who practiced witchcraft offered the power to heal, they could also intend harm or coercion. While magic was rarely incorporated into civic religion, traditional folk remedies for healing that employed magical charms were common. Itinerant magicians, consulting their magic books, offered their services to wealthy clients. Others provided spells written on metal tablets – two common genres of which are known as ‘curse tablets’ and ‘love spells’ – which were deposited in graves or wells to contact Underworld gods.

We can also consider the significance of this particular scene on this kind of vessel, which held a mixture of water and wine and may have been used by male drinkers at a symposium. Over the course of an evening, as the participants imbibed and became increasingly inebriated, their perspectives on this composition might change. It embodies Greek anxieties about tricky witches, but it’s also humorous. By focusing on the moment when Circe is disarmed, any real sense of the threat she poses is removed, and Odysseus’ outwitting of Circe represents a return to the expected social order. But looking at the half-man, half-beast figures, the symposiasts might be prompted to consider that their drunken state brought them closer to being like animals, blurring the boundaries between civilized men and wild beasts. They might also ponder the transformative possibilities of the substances we ingest, whether they be wine or Circe’s magic potions. The scene thus maintains a sense of tension that invites the viewer to question whether they should feel at ease or on edge.