The hypothesis, then, of traditional origin is the key, and the only key, to the position of the Homeric Iris.
The Atè of Homer.
Before quitting the precinct of the primeval tradition discoverable in Homer, we have yet one very remarkable group of impersonations to consider, that in which the goddess Ἄτη is the leading figure. Commonly regarded as meaning Mischief, the word is not capable of being fully rendered in English: but Guile is its primary idea, in the train of which come the sister notions of Folly and Calamity.
Ἄτη both wishes and suggests all ill to mortals; but she does not seem in Homer to have any power of injuring them, except through channels, which have been wholly or partially opened to her by their own volition.
The Ἄτη of the later Greeks is Calamity simply, with a shadow of Destiny hanging in the distance; as in the magnificent figure of the lion’s cub in Æschylus[278]. But the word never bears in Homer the sense of calamity coming simply from without. This is evident even from the large and general description, where she appears in company with the Λιταί[279]. Vigorous and nimble, she ranges over the whole earth for mischief. After her, slowly lag the Prayers or Λιταὶ, honoured however in being, like her, daughters of Jupiter. These are limping, decrepit, and unable to see straight before them. The leading idea of Ἄτη is not force, but cunning. She is the power that tempts and misleads men to their own cost or ruin, as they afterwards find out. Nay, she tempts the deity also: for she beguiles even Jupiter himself[280] when Hercules is about to be born, and induces him thoughtlessly to promise what will, through Juno’s craft, overturn his own dearly cherished plans. For this excess of daring, however, she herself suffers. Jupiter seizes her by the hair, and hurls her from Olympus, apparently her native seat. Thenceforward she can only exercise her function among men; who, when they have yielded to the seduction, and tasted the ashes under the golden fruit, at length set about repentance or prayer:
All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost![281]
Now though the impersonation of Atè in Homer is one of the indeterminate class, it is surely a mistake to treat it as representing the mere poetical incorporation of an abstract idea. On the contrary, we seem to find in it the old tradition of the Evil One as the Tempter; and it may be said that the word Temptress would best represent the Homeric idea of Ἄτη. In this sense it will supply a consistent meaning to the fine passage in the speech of Phœnix: for we are swift, so says the Poet, to fall into temptation, and to offend, ingenious only in not seeing our fault, and covering it with excuses: but slow, and like the half-hearted, decrepit Λιταί, when we have to make our entreaties for pardon, and to think of restitution and amendment. Yet as even the gods listen to their entreaties, ‘so,’ says Phœnix, ‘shouldst thou, O Achilles: and if thou dost not, then mayest yet thyself fall.’ But if Ἄτη meant only misfortune, the passage loses all its harmony, and even becomes absurd; for surely none will say that men are slow to discern adversity, or to offer petitions, wherever they have a prospect of being heard, for relief from it.
There is no passage which appears to me more characteristic of the true distinctive character of the Homeric Ἄτη, than that in which Dolon confesses his folly[282]:
πολλῇσίν μ’ ἄτῃσι παρὲκ νόον ἤγαγεν Ἕκτωρ.
Here we have Hector, the tempter: ἄται, the temptation: νόος, the sound mind, from which temptation diverted the self-duped simpleton: ἤγαγεν, expressive of the medium, namely, through volition, and not by force.