In the phalanx of Epaminondas, he himself with the Thebans and Bœotians was on the left; the Argeians on the right; the Arcadians, Messenians, Eubœans, Sikyonians and other allies in the centre.[746] It was his purpose to repeat the same general plan of attack which had succeeded so perfectly at Leuktra; to head the charge himself with his Bœotians on the left against the opposing right or right-centre, and to bear down the enemy on that side with irresistible force, both of infantry and cavalry; while he kept back his right and centre, composed of less trustworthy troops, until the battle should have been thus wholly or partially decided. Accordingly, he caused the Bœotian hoplites,—occupying the left of his line in lochi or companies, with the lochage or captain at the left extremity of each,—to wheel to the right and form in column fronting the enemy, in advance of his remaining line. The Theban lochages thus became placed immediately in face of the enemy, as the heads of a column of extraordinary depth; all the hoplites of each lochus, and perhaps of more than one lochus, being ranged in file behind them.[747] What the actual depth was, or what was the exact number of the lochus, we do not know. At Leuktra, Epaminondas had attacked with fifty shields of depth; at Mantinea, the depth of his column was probably not less. Himself, with the chosen Theban warriors, were at the head of it, and he relied upon breaking through the enemy’s phalanx at whatever point he charged; since their files would hardly be more than eight deep, and very inadequate to resist so overwhelming a shock. His column would cut through the phalanx of the enemy, like the prow of a trireme impelled in sea-fight against the midships of her antagonist.
It was apparently only the Bœotian hoplites who were thus formed in column, projecting forward in advance; while the remaining allies were still left in their ordinary phalanx or lines.[748] Epaminondas calculated, that when he should have once broken through the enemy’s phalanx at a single point, the rest would either take flight, or become so dispirited, that his allies coming up in phalanx could easily deal with them.
Against the cavalry on the enemy’s right, which was marshaled only with the ordinary depth of a phalanx of hoplites (four, six, or perhaps eight deep),[749] and without any light infantry intermingled with the ranks—the Theban general opposed on his left his own excellent cavalry, Theban and Thessalian, but in strong and deep column, so as to ensure to them also a superior weight of attack. He farther mingled in their ranks some active footmen, darters and slingers, of whom he had many from Thessaly and the Maliac Gulf.[750]
There remained one other precaution to take. His deep Theban and Bœotian column, in advancing to the charge, would be exposed on its right or unshielded side to the attack of the Athenians, especially the Athenian cavalry, from the enemy’s left. To guard against any such movement, he posted, upon some rising ground near his right, a special body of reserve, both horse and foot, in order to take the Athenians in the rear if they should attempt it.
All these fresh dispositions for attack, made on the spot, must have occupied time, and caused much apparent movement. To constitute both the column of infantry, and the column of cavalry, for attack on his left—and to post the body of reserve on the rising ground at his right against the Athenians—were operations which the enemy from their neighboring position could not help seeing. Yet they either did not heed, or did not understand, what was going on.[751] Nor was it until Epaminondas, perceiving all to be completed, actually gave the word of command to “take up arms,” that they had any suspicion of the impending danger. As soon as they saw him in full march moving rapidly towards them, surprise and tumultuous movement pervaded their body. The scattered hoplites ran to their places; the officers exerted every effort to establish regular array; the horsemen hastened to bridle their horses and resume their breast-plates.[752] And though the space dividing the two armies was large enough to allow such mischief to be partially corrected,—yet soldiers thus taken unawares, hurried, and troubled, were not in condition to stand the terrific shock of chosen Theban hoplites in deep column.
The grand force of attack, both of cavalry and infantry, which Epaminondas organized on his left, was triumphant in both its portions. His cavalry, powerfully aided by the intermingled darters and light troops from Thessaly, broke and routed the enemy’s cavalry opposed to them, and then restraining themselves from pursuit, turned to fall upon the phalanx of infantry. Epaminondas, on his part, with his Theban column, came into close conflict with the Mantinean and Lacedæmonian line of infantry, whom, after a desperate struggle of shield, spear, and sword, he bore down by superior force and weight. He broke through the enemy’s line of infantry at this point, compelling the Lacedæmonians opposed to him, after a brave and murderous resistance, to turn their backs and take to flight. The remaining troops of the enemy’s line, seeing the best portion of their army defeated and in flight, turned and fled also. The centre and right of Epaminondas, being on a less advanced front, hardly came into conflict with the enemy until the impression of his charge had been felt, and therefore found the troops opposed to them already wavering and disheartened. The Achæan, Eleian, and other infantry on that side, gave way after a short resistance; chiefly as it would appear, from contagion and alarm, when they saw the Lacedæmonians broken. The Athenians however, especially the cavalry, on the left wing of their own army, seem to have been engaged in serious encounter with the cavalry opposite to them. Diodorus affirms them to have been beaten, after a gallant fight,[753] until the Eleian cavalry from the right came to their aid. Here, as on many other points, it is difficult to reconcile his narrative with Xenophon, who plainly intimates that the stress of the action fell on the Theban left and Lacedæmonian right and centre,—and from whose narrative we should rather have gathered, that the Eleian cavalry, beaten on their own right, may have been aided by the Athenian cavalry from the left; reversing the statement of Diodorus.
In regard to this important battle, however, we cannot grasp with confidence anything beyond the capital determining feature and the ultimate result.[754] The calculations of Epaminondas were completely realized. The irresistible charge, both of infantry and cavalry, made by himself with his left wing, not only defeated the troops immediately opposed, but caused the enemy’s whole army to take flight. It was under these victorious circumstances, and while he was pressing on the retiring enemy at the head of his Theban column of infantry, that he received a mortal wound with a spear in the breast. He was by habit and temper, always foremost in braving danger, and on this day probably exposed himself preëminently, as a means of encouraging those around him, and ensuring the success of his own charge, on which so much depended; moreover, a Grecian general fought on foot in the ranks, and carried the same arms (spear, shield, etc.) as a private soldier. Diodorus tells us that the Lacedæmonian infantry were making a prolonged resistance, when Epaminondas put himself at the head of the Thebans for a fresh and desperate effort; that he stepped forward, darted his javelin, and slew the Lacedæmonian commander; that having killed several warriors, and intimidated others, he forced them to give way; that the Lacedæmonians, seeing him in advance of his comrades, turned upon him and overwhelmed him with darts, some of which he avoided, others he turned off with his shield, while others, after they had actually entered his body and wounded him, he plucked out and employed them in repelling the enemy. At length he received a mortal wound in his breast with a spear.[755] I cannot altogether admit to notice these details; which once passed as a portion of Grecian history, though they seem rather the offspring of an imagination fresh from the perusal of the Iliad than a recital of an actual combat of Thebans and Lacedæmonians, both eminent for close-rank fighting, with long spear and heavy shield. The mortal wound of Epaminondas, with a spear in the breast, is the only part of the case which we really know. The handle of the spear broke, and the point was left sticking in his breast. He immediately fell, and as the enemy were at that moment in retreat, fell into the arms of his own comrades. There was no dispute for the possession of his body, as there had been for Kleombrotus at Leuktra.
The news of his mortal wound spread like wild-fire through his army; and the effect produced is among the most extraordinary phenomena in all Grecian military history. I give it in the words of the contemporary historian. “It was thus (says Xenophon) that Epaminondas arranged his order of attack; and he was not disappointed in his expectation. For having been victorious, on the point where he himself charged, he caused the whole army of the enemy to take flight. But so soon as he fell, those who remained had no longer any power even of rightly using the victory. Though the phalanx of the enemy’s infantry was in full flight, the Theban hoplites neither killed a single man more, nor advanced a step beyond the actual ground of conflict. Though the enemy’s cavalry was also in full flight, yet neither did the Theban horsemen continue their pursuit, nor kill any more either of horsemen or of hoplites, but fell back through the receding enemies with the timidity of beaten men. The light troops and peltasts, who had been mingled with the Theban cavalry and had aided in their victory, spread themselves over towards the enemy’s left with the security of conquerors; but there (being unsupported by their own horsemen) they were mostly cut to pieces by the Athenians.”[756]
Astonishing as this recital is, we cannot doubt that it is literally true, since it contradicts the sympathies of the reciting witness. Nothing but the pressure of undeniable evidence could have constrained Xenophon to record a scene so painful to him as the Lacedæmonian army beaten, in full flight, and rescued from destruction only by the untimely wound of the Theban general. That Epaminondas would leave no successor either equal or second to himself, now that Pelopidas was no more,—that the army which he commanded should be incapable of executing new movements or of completing an unfinished campaign,—we can readily conceive. But that on the actual battle-field, when the moment of dangerous and doubtful struggle has been already gone through, and when the soldier’s blood is up, to reap his reward in pursuit of an enemy whom he sees fleeing before him—that at this crisis of exuberant impatience, when Epaminondas, had he been unwounded, would have found it difficult to restrain his soldiers from excessive forwardness, they should have become at once paralyzed and disarmed on hearing of his fall,—this is what we could not have believed, had we not found it attested by a witness at once contemporary and hostile. So striking a proof has hardly ever been rendered, on the part of soldiers towards their general, of devoted and absorbing sentiment. All the hopes of this army, composed of such diverse elements, were centred in Epaminondas; all their confidence of success, all their security against defeat, were derived from the idea of acting under his orders; all their power, even of striking down a defeated enemy, appeared to vanish when those orders were withdrawn. We are not indeed to speak of such a proceeding with commendation. Thebes and her allied cities had great reason to complain of their soldiers, for a grave dereliction of military duty, and a capital disappointment of well-earned triumph,—whatever may be our feelings about the motive. Assuredly the man who would be most chagrined of all, and whose dying moments must have been embittered if he lived to hear it,—was Epaminondas himself. But when we look at the fact simply as a mark and measure of the ascendency established by him over the minds of his soldiers, it will be found hardly paralleled in history. I have recounted, a few pages ago, the intense grief displayed by the Thebans and their allies in Thessaly over the dead body of Pelopidas[757] on the hill of Kynoskephalæ. But all direct and deliberate testimonies of attachment to a dead or dying chief (and doubtless these too were abundant on the field of Mantinea) fall short of the involuntary suspension of arms in the tempting hour of victory.
That the real victory, the honors of the day, belonged to Epaminondas and the Thebans, we know from the conclusive evidence of Xenophon. But as the vanquished, being allowed to retire unpursued, were only separated by a short distance from the walls of Mantinea, and perhaps rallied even before reaching the town,—as the Athenian cavalry had cut to pieces some of the straggling light troops,—they too pretended to have gained a victory. Trophies were erected on both sides. Nevertheless the Thebans were masters of the field of battle; so that the Lacedæmonians, after some hesitation, were forced to send a herald to solicit truce for the burial of the slain, and to grant for burial such Theban bodies as they had in their possession.[758] This was the understood confession of defeat.