In 371 B.C. at Leuctra, in Boeotia, on the road from Plataea to Thespiae, the Thebans
met and defeated the Spartans. The latter never recovered from the blow this disaster gave
to their prestige. It was poetic justice that this punishment for their ill rule should
come from Thebes---the city they had used shamefully beyond all others. The credit for the
victory falls to Epaminondas, though he is not named by the historian Xenophon, who---as a
warm admirer of the Spartans---was not anxious to glorify their most formidable enemy.
Book VI, Chap. IV: When the Spartan king [Cleombrotus] observed that
the Thebans, so far from giving autonomy to the Boeotian city states [as demanded], were
not even disbanding their army and had clearly the purpose of fighting a general
engagement, he felt justified in marching his troops into Boeotia [from Phocis where he
had been]. The point of ingress which he adopted was not that which the Thebans expected
from Phocis, and where they were keeping a guard at a defile, but marching through
Thisbae, by a hilly and unsuspected route, he arrived before Creusis, taking that fortress
and twelve Theban war ships to boot. After this, he advanced from the seaboard, and
encamped in Leuctra in Thespian territory. The Thebans encamped on a rising ground
immediately opposite at no great distance, and were supported by no allies, save their
[fellow] Boeotians.
At this juncture the friends of Cleombrotus came to him and urged upon him strong
reasons for delivering battle. "If you let the Thebans escape without fighting,"
they said, "you will run great risks of suffering the extreme penalty at the hands of
the state....In times past you have missed doing anything notable, and let good chances
slip. If you have any care for yourself, or any attachment to your fatherland, march you
must against the enemy." Thus spoke his friends, and his enemies remarked, "Now
our fine fellow will show whether he is really so partial to the Thebans as is
alleged."
With these words ringing in his ears, Cleombrotus felt driven to join battle. On their
side the Theban leaders calculated that if they did not fight, their provincial cities
would hold aloof from them, and Thebes itself would be besieged; while if the populace of
Thebes failed to get provisions there was a good chance the city itself would turn against
[its own leaders]; and seeing that many of them had already tasted the bitterness of
exile, they concluded it were better to die on the battlefield than renew the exile's
life. Besides this, they were somewhat encouraged by an oracle, predicting that "the
Lacedaemonians would be defeated on the spot where stood the monument of the
maidens,"---who, as the story goes, being outraged by certain Lacedaemonians, had
slain themselves. This sepulchral monument the Thebans decked with ornaments before the
battle. Furthermore, tidings were brought from the city that all the temples had opened of
their own accord; and the priestesses asserted that the gods foretold victory. Cleombrotus
held his last council "whether to fight or not" after the morning meal. In the
heat of noon a little wine goes a long way; and people said it took a somewhat provocative
effect upon their spirits.
Both sides were now arming, and there were unmistakable signs of approaching battle,
when, as the first incident, there issued from the Boeotian lines a long train bent on
departure---they were furnishers of the market, a detachment of baggage bearers and in
general such people as had no hankering to join in the fight. [A band of the Spartan
allies headed them off, and drove them back to the Boeotian camp . . . ] the result being
to make the Boeotian army more numerous and closely packed than before. The next move was
as a result of the open plain between the two armies---the Lacedaemonians posted their
cavalry in front of their squares of infantry, and the Thebans imitated them. Only there
was this difference---the Theban horse were in a high state of training and efficiency,
thanks to their war with the Orchomenians, and also their war with Thespiae; the
Lacedaemonian cavalry was at its very worst just now. The horses were reared and kept by
the richest citizens; but whenever the levy was called out, a trooper appeared who took
the horse with any sort of arms that might be presented to him, and set off on an
expedition at a moment's notice. These troopers, too, were the least able-bodied of the
men---just raw recruits simply set astride their horses, and wanting in all soldierly
ambition. Such was the cavalry of either antagonist.
The heavy infantry of the Lacedaemonians, it is said, advanced by sections three
abreast, allowing a total depth to the whole line of not more than twelve. The Thebans
were formed in close order of not less than fifty shields deep, calculating that victory
over the [Spartan] king's division of his army would involve the easy conquest of the
rest.
Cleombrotus had hardly begun to lead his division against the foe, when, before in fact
the troops with him were aware of his advance, the cavalry had already come into
collision, and that of the Lacedaemonians was speedily worsted. In their flight they
became involved with their own heavy infantry; and, to make matters worse, the Theban
regiments were already attacking vigorously. Still strong evidence exists for supposing
that Cleombrotus and his division were, in the first instance, victorious in the battle,
if we consider the fact that they could never have picked him up and brought him back
alive unless his vanguard had been masters of the situation for the moment.
When, however, Deinon the polemarch, and Sphodrias, a member of the king's council,
with his son Cleonymus, had fallen, then it was that the cavalry and the polemarch's
adjutants, as they are called, with the rest, under pressure of the mass against them,
began retreating. And the left wing of the Lacedaemonians, seeing the right borne down in
this way, also swerved. Still, in spite of the numbers slain, and broken as they were, as
soon as they had crossed the trench which protected their camp in front, they grounded
arms on the spot whence they had rushed to battle. This camp, it should be borne in mind,
did not lie on the level, but was pitched on a somewhat steep incline.
At this juncture there were some Lacedaemonians, who, looking upon such a disaster as
intolerable, maintained that they ought to prevent the enemy from erecting atrophy, and
try to recover the dead, not under a flag of truce, but by another battle. The polemarchs,
however, seeing that nearly 1000 of the total Lacedaemonian troops were slain, and seeing,
too, that of the 700 regular Spartans who were on the field some 400 lay dead; aware
likewise of the despondency which reigned among the allies, and the general disinclination
on their part to fight longer---a frame of mind not far from positive satisfaction in some
cases at what had happened---under the circumstances, I say, the polemarchs called a
council of the ablest representatives of the shattered army, and deliberated on what
should be done. Finally, the unanimous opinion was to pick up the dead under a flag of
truce, and they sent a herald to treat for terms. The Thebans after that set up a trophy,
and gave back the bodies under a truce.
After these events a messenger was dispatched to Lacedaemon with news of the calamity.
He reached his destination on the last day of the gymnopaediae [midsummer festival] just
when the chorus of grown men had entered the theater. The ephors heard the mournful
tidings not without grief or pain, as needs they must, I take it; but for all that they
did not dismiss the chorus, but allowed the contest to run out its natural course. What
they did was to deliver the names of those who had fallen to their friends and families,
with a word of warning to the women not to make any loud lamentation, but to bear their
sorrow in silence; and the next day it was a striking spectacle to see those who had
relations among the slain moving to and fro in public with bright and radiant looks,
whilst of those whose friends were reported to be living, barely a man was seen, and these
flitted by with lowered heads and scowling brows, as if in humiliation.
