Supernatural Figures: Polyphemus and Circe

Hospitality as a test of character

In Homer’s Odyssey, Odysseus encounters Polyphemus in Book 9 and Circe in Book 10 during his journey home from Troy to Ithaca. Both threaten his men, but neither is adequately described by a single label. Polyphemus is a monstrous cannibal who carefully tends livestock; Circe is a dangerous witch who becomes a generous host and helpful adviser.

An important way to understand these contrasts is xenia, the relationship of hospitality between hosts and guests. Travellers depended on strangers for food, shelter and protection. A welcome therefore reveals more than good manners: it tests whether someone will respect vulnerable outsiders. Odysseus appeals to Zeus’ protection of strangers and suppliants when he encounters Polyphemus. Circe initially offers the appearance of hospitality while using it to trap her visitors.

Polyphemus: physically and morally monstrous

Polyphemus’ appearance immediately separates him from ordinary humanity. He is a huge, one-eyed Cyclops. Homer compares him to a wooded mountain peak rather than a “bread-eating human” (Book 9, lines 190–192). The comparison makes his size seem like a feature of the landscape: he is an overwhelming physical presence, not merely a large man. The reference to bread also contrasts him with familiar human life and diet.

His strength turns his cave into a prison. He blocks its entrance with a boulder so enormous that twenty-two four-wheeled wagons could not carry it, yet he moves it himself. The visitors’ fear is therefore grounded in a practical danger: they are trapped with someone far stronger than themselves. Odysseus considers stabbing him while he sleeps, but realises that without Polyphemus they could not move the stone and would die inside.

Polyphemus also deliberately rejects the obligations that should protect his visitors. When Odysseus appeals to Zeus, he replies that the Cyclopes care nothing for Zeus and claims that they are greater than the gods. He says that he would spare the men only if his own heart prompted him, not to avoid divine anger. His response presents him as arrogant and pitiless: his personal wishes take the place of a shared moral rule. This fits his life in “lawless solitude”, keeping apart from others.

His actions make that rejection horrifyingly concrete. He seizes two companions, dashes them against the ground so that their brains spill out, and tears them limb from limb. Homer compares his eating to that of a mountain lion, and emphasises that he consumes flesh, entrails, bone and marrow. The graphic detail and animal comparison portray people being reduced to prey. The watching Greeks can only weep and raise their hands to heaven, highlighting their helplessness beside his strength.

Polyphemus eats his visitors instead of feeding them. This reverses the purpose of hospitality: the people who need protection become the host’s food. Cannibalism makes him morally monstrous as well as physically frightening. The lasting effect appears in Book 10, when the crew remember the “fierce violence of the man-eating Cyclops” and weep at the prospect of another encounter with strangers.

Polyphemus: a methodical keeper of livestock

The cave also reveals a quite different side of Polyphemus. When Odysseus and his men enter it, they find baskets of cheese, vessels for milk and whey, and pens of lambs and kids separated according to age. This is an organised working household, not simply a chaotic monster’s den.

His routine confirms that he is an attentive herdsman. He brings the female sheep and goats into the cave while leaving the males outside. He milks the animals and places a lamb or kid beneath each mother to suckle. He divides the milk, using some for cheese and keeping some for his own meals. These actions show practical knowledge, order and care for the flock’s needs.

Homer makes the contrast especially disturbing by placing husbandry and violence within the same daily routine. The following morning, Polyphemus carefully milks the animals and gives each mother her young, then seizes two more men to eat before taking his flock to pasture. His care for animals exists alongside his cruelty to people; it does not replace it.

The contrast is central to his portrayal. He can nurture animals while destroying human beings. His husbandry prevents us from treating him as an entirely mindless brute, but it does not make him a good host. Homer places domestic competence beside horrifying violence: being skilful at managing a household is not the same as treating strangers justly.

Circe: an attractive welcome concealing witchcraft

Circe lives on Aeaea and is a goddess, the daughter of the Sun and Perse. Calling her a witch describes her use of magical drugs and a wand; it does not mean she is an ordinary mortal woman.

Her first appearance combines beauty, domestic skill and danger. Eurylochus’ party reaches a polished-stone house where Circe sings sweetly while weaving a magnificent tapestry. Outside, wolves and mountain lions behave like dogs welcoming a master. Their unnatural friendliness reveals her power to alter behaviour and foreshadows the disruption of the boundary between human and animal.

Circe opens her doors, offers seats and prepares a drink of honey, Pramnian wine, cheese and barley meal. These actions resemble a generous welcome. Yet she adds drugs intended to make the men forget their homeland. Food and drink, which should sustain travellers, become instruments for separating them from home.

After they drink, she touches them with her wand and confines them in pigsties. They have pigs’ bodies and voices, but their minds remain human. Their weeping makes the transformation particularly cruel: they understand their humiliation while being unable to live or communicate as men. Circe feeds them acorns, beech mast and cornel fruit, treating them according to their new animal bodies rather than their human identities. Eurylochus escapes this fate because he distrusts the welcome and stays outside.

Circe’s power is checked

When Odysseus goes to rescue his companions, Hermes gives him moly and explains how to respond to Circe. The herb prevents her drugs from enchanting him. When she strikes him with her wand and orders him into the sty, he draws his sword and rushes at her.

The confident controller now becomes frightened: she clasps his knees and weeps. Her astonishment that anyone could withstand the potion suggests how accustomed she is to successful domination. She recognises Odysseus as the man whose arrival Hermes had foretold and invites him to her bed.

Odysseus remains cautious. Following Hermes’ advice, he insists that she swear an oath by the gods not to harm him before he accepts her invitation. The oath marks a turning point, but the rescue is not yet complete: his companions are still imprisoned.

Circe becomes a generous and sympathetic host

After the oath, Circe’s household provides genuine care. Her attendants prepare fine furnishings, food and wine, bathe Odysseus, rub him with oil and dress him in a tunic and cloak. These details show hospitality restoring a traveller’s dignity and relieving exhaustion, rather than disguising an attack.

Odysseus refuses to eat until his men are freed. Circe responds by applying a fresh potion: their bristles fall away, and they become men again, younger, taller and handsomer than before. When they recognise Odysseus and weep, she is “moved to pity”. Her capacity for sympathy complicates the earlier picture of a cruel enchantress.

She then welcomes the remaining crew. They are bathed, clothed and fed, and she acknowledges the suffering of their journey. Her abundant food and wine provide a year’s respite. Nevertheless, comfort delays their homecoming, and the men eventually remind Odysseus of Ithaca. Circe’s hospitality is now beneficial, but its pleasures can still distract them from their goal.

From threatening witch to helpful adviser

When Odysseus asks to leave, Circe tells him not to remain against his will. She explains that he must first consult the dead seer Teiresias and gives directions for the voyage and the rituals needed to approach him. Her supernatural knowledge now assists the homeward journey rather than obstructing it.

The strongest overall judgement therefore recognises change and contrast. Polyphemus combines orderly care for livestock with monstrous treatment of human visitors. Circe first corrupts hospitality through witchcraft, then uses her resources, sympathy and knowledge to help her guests. Their supernatural nature alone does not determine their moral character: what matters is how they use their power over others.