Xenophon (Cyr. 2.1.16–18) makes the elder Cyrus declare that a major advantage of weapons intended for close combat over bows and javelins (servile weapons, fit only for mercenaries!) is that it is impossible to excel with the latter except by constant practice, whereas with the former there is no fear of missing a blow. Peasants called up to fight beside their masters will thus be at no disadvantage, if they are as bold and as physically robust. One such peasant boasts that, just as animals know by nature how to use tooth and claw, so he himself from childhood has needed no teacher to show him how to strike out with his fists, or with a machaera. 'It was not merely natural, like walking and running, but seemed to me naturally
delightful as well.' This sort of fighting is 'a work of enthusiasm rather than of art' (Xen. Cyr. 2.3.8–11). It is true that the peasants of the Cyropaedia are imaginary Persians, equipped with oriental scimitar (machaera) or battle-axe (sagaris). But Xenophon himself had seen armies of newly enfranchised helots (neodamodeis) turned into good hoplites by their Spartan masters, and no doubt intended his readers to apply his words to the Greek spear and sword, as well as to oriental stage properties. What the peasant recruits did have to learn was how to march and fight in organized formation, not as a mob.40
It is true that an art of fencing with hoplite weapons was developed, and in the later fifth century was being taught at Athens by professional instructors, some of whom also offered instruction in formation drill.41 But this training was not for the general mass of citizens. Plato counts these teachers among the sophists; and like the other sophists they addressed themselves to rich young men who had leisure to perfect themselves in the arts of political and military leadership and money to pay handsomely for instruction. Plato (Lach. 181E–183D) begins a discussion of the nature of courage with comments on a demonstration of this new-fangled art of hoplomachia that has just been witnessed by an Athenian audience, including the distinguished gentleman-soldier Nicias and the more hardened professional Laches.
To Nicias, it appears that this art will have value chiefly as an exercise, and only secondarily in actual warfare. It will give some advantage when one is fighting in formation, but will be chiefly useful when the ranks are broken and the battle has resolved itself into individual combats of pursuer and pursued. In such circumstances the expert will always defeat a single adversary, and perhaps several at once. To this Laches replies that if this art were any use it would not be completely neglected by the Spartans, who devote their whole lives to the discovery and practice of whatever is advantageous in war. The teachers of hoplomachia do not so much as set foot on Spartan ground, but look for honor and reward elsewhere, especially among people who freely acknowledge their own military inferiority.
The value of armed dances as military training, in which different movements with shield and weapons were mimicked, also appears to be limited Certainly such dancing, even more than the exercises of the gymnasium, would promote physical fitness, an essential object of the individual's training.42 And this art at least was not neglected by the Spartans, whose children from the age of 5 up danced the Pyrrhic
dance, using fennel stalks instead of spears (Ath. 4.63la). Grown men would become accustomed to real armor and weapons—'get the feel of them,' as we say nowadays. But citizen armies contained their proportion of the physically unfit, whose fat bellies needed three or four shields to cover them (Plut. Mor. 192C-D). Perhaps not many of these men had been dancers in their youths; clearly they neglected, at the peril of their lives, physical fitness and good discipline well before they reached the age of discharge from military service (Xen. Mem. 3.12.1–8). In a long imaginary conversation between Socrates and the younger Pericles, Xenophon (Mem. 3.5.1–28, especially 21) criticizes the want of good order and military discipline among the Athenians, which has brought them to fear invasion from the Boeotians, whose territory they themselves used to invade. The dramatic date is earlier than 406 BC, when Pericles was put to death for alleged misconduct at the battle of Arginusae, but the criticism applies to the situation shortly before 362 BC
Even men in good condition can hardly have reproduced the figures of the dance in actual battle. Probably the most famous description of such dances is given by Xenophon (An. 6.1.1–13). These included a sham combat performed by two Thracians to the sound of the flute; a Thessalian 'harvest dance,' in which a robber fought a ploughman for his oxen, with victory going now to one, now to the other; a Mysian dance, in which a single performer clashed light shields in time to music, and a processional display by 'certain Mantineans and other Arcadians.' Finally came a Pyrrhic dance, danced amid great applause by a girl with a light shield—'these were the ones who beat back the Great King from the camp,' as the Greeks assured their barbarian guest. One may, without denying what has been said already about the value of the dance as an exercise, agree that 'the dances described by Xenophon appear to have little practical value. They are pantomimes, processional marches, or simply entertainment.'43
Some movements with spear and shield the hoplite was undoubtedly required to perform as a drill. When he was standing still, he would put down his heavy shield as often as possible. But in the presence of the enemy he would not lay it flat on the ground but lean it against his knees, ready to be picked up instantly, while holding his spear upright. The smartness with which a force of mercenaries under the Athenian general Chabrias performed the movement showed the Spartan king Agesilaus that their discipline was to be respected, and dissuaded him from attacking them (Diod. Sic. 15.32–3; Polyaenus Strat. 2.1.2; Nep. Chabrias 1).44 When standing 'at attention,' rather
than 'at ease,' the hoplite carried his shield on his left arm, but continued to hold the spear vertically, with the butt resting on the ground.45
On the march, including the final approach, as shown on the Chigi Vase and other works of art,46 the spear was carried at the slope on the right shoulder, at an angle of perhaps 30 degrees behind the vertical, with the spear-head upwards. 'Slope spears!' as a drill movement, carried out in unison at the word of command, appears in a story about the famous early fourth-century Athenian mercenary general Iphicrates (Polyaenus, Strat. 3.9–8). On one occasion he declined battle, though his army was larger and the omens were good, because his undrilled men could not throw their shields forward in unison and upon the order 'Slope spears!' the clash of arms was drowned out by the chattering of teeth. (This must have been an occasion when Iphicrates was in command of a force of citizen hoplites, not his own highly trained mercenary peltasts.) Held at the slope, the spear would have some value in deflecting missiles falling from above,47 but would not have covered the heads of the front ranks, as did the great Macedonian sarissa, carried in both hands, sloping forward (Polyb. 18.29–30). When two hoplite armies met, protection from missiles was not, of course, important.
From the slope, the spear could be brought straight down to an underhand thrusting position. The force of the underhand thrust, delivered at a run, has rightly been emphasized.48 Charging at the double against a mob of demoralized Asiatics, the Greeks at Cunaxa (401 BC) evidently carried their spears in this way, since some of them beat their spears against their shields in order to frighten the Persian chariot-horses (Xen. An. 1.8.18). The underhand thrust might also have proved useful when the younger soldiers were ordered to break ranks and pursue light-armed troops (Xen. Hell. 3.4.24; 4.5.14, etc.). It is sometimes shown in pictures of heroic combat.49 But when two hoplite phalanxes met face to face and it was important to preserve the coherence of rank and file, the lowering of the spears was merely a preliminary to raising them again to an overarm position above the right shoulder. (As noted earlier (p.19), this is apparently what the soldiers in the rear rank of the right-hand army on the Chigi vase are doing.) Before bringing the spear up, it is necessary to reverse the grip. Not much practice or dexterity are needed to do this by tossing the spear upwards a few inches and catching it again with the grip reversed.50 Alternatively, as Professor Lazenby suggests in chapter 4 of this vol
ume, 'the change-over could have been effected by sticking
the spear in the ground, then picking it up again with the hand reversed.' This does seem to involve a check in the forward movement of the phalanx, and lacks the warrant of even such slight ancient evidence as the Chigi vase supplies for the other method. The overarm thrust would be directed in the first place at the enemy's throat, which might be left bare if his left arm grew tired and he dropped his guard. But especially in archaic vase-painting it is sometimes aimed more sharply downwards, against the thighs or buttocks below the cuirass, which is generally worn at this period, or against the back of a collapsing enemy.51 In these circumstances the underhand thrust is the weak retort of the defeated, who turns back as he retreats and jabs at the enemy in the hope of finding an unprotected spot.52
Apart from the imprecise references to hoplomachia mentioned above, there is no ancient evidence for sword-drill. Some of the movements shown in works of art, such as the backhand cut with the machaera carried back above the left shoulder, are found in modern drill-books,53 but this of course does not prove that they were taught, rather than used instinctively, in antiquity. In works of art, the machaera is usually used for a downright slash, either the backhand or directly from above the right shoulder. The straight sword is often used for thrusting, sometimes through the back, as already noted, or, against a kneeling enemy, vertically through the base of the throat.54 Often a swordsman seems to be using his weapon defensively, to parry an enemy's spear or cut through its shaft.55 Pictures of Asiatics defending themselves with sword against spear, dating from the generation after the Persian invasion, may refer directly to the Greek victory at Plataea in 479 BC, though Herodotus (9.62.2) speaks of the barbarians catching hold of and snapping the Greek spears, rather than cutting or parrying them with their swords.
Pictorial evidence makes up for the want of verbal descriptions of the wounds inflicted by sword and spear in hoplite battle. The classical historians do not describe in detail, as Homer does, the path of spear or arrow through the right buttock into the bladder, or the sword-stroke that breaks the skull above the nose so that the eyes start out (Hom. Il. 5.66–7; 13.615–18; 13.650–2). This is in accordance with the concept of hoplite battle, in which the exploits or sufferings of the individual are submerged in the triumph or disaster of the whole army. Even when a great commander is killed or wounded, what matters (apart from the extent to which the battle is decided by the loss of a leader) is the moral example rather than the exact clinical
details of the wound. Epameinondas at Mantinea (362 BC) receives a mortal spear-thrust in the chest, but who struck the blow remains doubtful, and our attention is drawn from the wound itself to the hero's comportment in the face of death. The death of Brasidas is contrasted with the ignoble end of his opponent Cleon and set in the context of his achievements and posthumous honors (Thuc. 5.10.8–11.1). But we are told only that he was wounded in his right side and lived long enough to know that his men had conquered. The details of the wound are unimportant. Occasionally Xenophon is shocked into describing some particular wound; the description of how Nicarchus the Arcadian brought to the Greek camp the news that the generals had been arrested by Tissaphernes, 'wounded in the belly and holding his entrails in his hands' (Xen. An. 2.5.33) is as grim as anything in Homer. However this is not hoplite battle but a sudden attack on unarmed men who thought themselves protected by a truce. Xenophon's description of the aftermath of hoplite battle is not less intense, but is more general and impersonal—'the ground empurpled with blood at the place of conflict, the corpses lying, friend mingled with foe, shields pierced, spears shivered, daggers unsheathed, some on the ground, some in the bodies, some still in the hands of the slain' (Xen. Ages. 2.14). It is notable that though this passage comes from an encomium of the victor, the Spartan king Agesilaus, the king's own wounds are merely said to be 'many,' not described. What does deserve description is his pious respect of the right of sanctuary after he learns that a party of the enemy has taken refuge in a nearby temple, and the display with which he demonstrates to friend and foe the fact of victory, rather than its cost.56
Poetical descriptions of two duels, set in the heroic past but reflecting the historic development of the art of fencing, may conclude this account of hoplite weapons and serve as reminders that it was to single combat (monomachia) that fencing (hoplomachia) was generally applicable. In the first, Euripides (Phoen. 1380–420) tells how the feud of the two sons of Oedipus, Eteocles and Polynices, was resolved by mortal combat. The trumpet sounded; the champions advanced. Each aimed with his spear at his adversary's eyes, which barely showed above the rim of his shield. Neither guard was broken, until Eteocles stumbled upon a rock, and, before he could recover, his brother pierced his left leg. Now Polynices left his own breast bare for a thrust; but the spear of Eteocles broke (apparently after penetrating the cuirass, though the armor is not specifically mentioned). Springing back, the hero picked up a great stone and broke his brother's
spear. Both took to their swords, and Eteocles, deceiving Polynices by the 'Thessalian Trick' of a feigned retreat, dealt him a mortal blow in the entrails. (Again the cuirass is not actually mentioned; but it may be supposed that Eteocles struck below its edge, in the spot 'between navel and privy parts,' where, as Homer remarked centuries earlier (Hom. Il. 13.568) death comes most painfully to wretched mortals.) Now Eteocles stood triumphant over his dying brother; but the hatred of Polynices gave him strength for a last blow upwards, and the brothers died together.
It is clear that both adversaries were using their spears in the overhand position during the first part of the fight. The fact that one particular feint had apparently acquired a name that was recognizable to the audience—or some of it—indicates that the hoplomachia was indeed known at Athens at the time when the play was produced (411 BC; the 'dramatic date' of Plato's Laches must be some years earlier, since Laches was killed at the battle of Mantinea in 418 BC).
The effort by which Polynices avenges his own death looks at first sight like a rather implausible attempt by the poet to reconcile his own evident wish to represent Eteocles as the winner with the traditional story, which required the death of both brothers. But Euripides' version is perhaps not so far-fetched. A little less than a century after this play was produced, Eumenes of Cardia was hurt in the groin under the cuirass by a sword-stroke from his enemy Neoptolemus, whom he had mortally wounded and was stripping of his arms. This injury however was only slight (Plut. Eum. 7.6–7).
The second example is the fight of Castor and Lynceus for the daughters of Leucippus, as described by Theocritus (Id. 22. 183–204). Lynceus thrusts at Castor with his spear 'below the rim of his shield' (i.e. underhand). Castor thrusts back; both spears break in the shields, but without pause the heroes draw their swords and strike against each other's helmets, whose crests they can barely reach above the shields. Lynceus attempts a side-stroke against Castor's left thigh, but Castor escapes the blow by pulling back his leg and shears away his opponent's finger-tips. Lynceus drops his sword and turns to run, but Castor overtakes him and drives his sword clean through him, from back to navel. 'And Lynceus, bowing down, lay there, and a heavy sleep came upon his eyelids.'
This description, as carefully orchestrated as the duel at the end of a good production of Hamlet, was written early in the third century BC. Gladiatorial combats were not, to the best of my knowledge, exhibited in the Greek world until about a century later, when they formed part
of a gigantic spectacle produced by Antiochus IV of Syria (Ath. 5.195c). Theocritus may therefore have been inspired by the bloodless demonstrations of the professors of hoplomachia. Both Euripides and Theocritus bear out the criticisms directed by Laches against the art. In hoplite battle the front-rank fighters of the 'cutting edge,' carried forward by the mass behind them, would have had little opportunity for feints and withdrawals, which would in any case have opened gaps in the line. Their duty was to hold their position until they conquered or die
d.
NOTES
I am indebted to Miss Elizabeth Sutherland, not only for the care with which she has typed this chapter but for several valuable suggestions about form and content, which have greatly improved it.
1. Victor Davis Hanson, The Western Way of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece (New York, 1989) 28–9, 132–77.
2. On Tyrtaeus as 'the most perplexing witness among the poets,' H.L. Lorimer, The Hoplite Phalanx with special reference to the poems of Archilochus and Tyrtaeus,' BSA 42 (1947) 121–4.
3. Hanson (supra n. 1) 158 notes the 'unusual size and bowl-like shape' of the hoplite shield; cf. Lorimer (supra n. 2) 122 on the 'hollow' hoplite shield of Tyrtaeus 1.11.6; but also has doubts on the great size of Tyrtaeus' shield: (supra n. 2) 122–7.
Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience Page 5
