The work of subjection completed, Cambyses, having been absent from his capital longer than was at all prudent, prepared to return home.  He had proceeded on his way as far as Syria, when intelligence reached him of a most unexpected nature.  A herald suddenly entered his camp and proclaimed, in the hearing of the whole army, that Cambyses, son of Cyrus, had ceased to reign, and that the allegiance of all Persian subjects was henceforth to be paid to Smerdis, son of Cyrus.  At first, it is said, Cambyses thought that his instrument had played him false, and that his brother was alive and had actually seized the throne; but the assurances of the suspected person, and a suggestion which he made, convinced him of the contrary, and gave him a clue to the real solution of the mystery.  Prexaspes, the nobleman inculpated, knew that the so-called Smerdis must be an impostor, and suggested his identity with a certain Magus, whose brother had been intrusted by Cambyses with the general direction of his household and the care of the palace.  He was probably led to make the suggestion by his knowledge of the resemblance borne by this person to the murdered prince, which was sufficiently close to make personation possible.  Cambyses was thus enabled to appreciate the gravity of the crisis, and to consider whether he could successfully contend with it or no.  Apparently, he decided in the negative.  Believing that he could not triumph over the conspiracy which had decreed his downfall, and unwilling to descend to a private station—­perhaps even uncertain whether his enemies would spare his life—­he resolved to fly to the last refuge of a dethroned king, and to end all by suicide.  Drawing his short sword from its sheath, he gave himself a wound, of which he died in a few days.

It is certainly surprising that the king formed this resolution.  He was at the head of an army, returning from an expedition, which, if not wholly successful, had at any rate added to the empire an important province.  His father’s name was a tower of strength; and if he could only have exposed the imposture that had been practised on them, he might have counted confidently on rallying the great mass of the Persians to his cause.  How was it that he did not advance on the capital, and at least strike one blow for empire?  No clear and decided response can be made to this inquiry; but we may indistinctly discern a number of causes which may have combined to produce in the monarch’s mind the feeling of despondency whereto he gave way.  Although he returned from Egypt a substantial conqueror, his laurel wreath was tarnished by ill-success; his army, weakened by its losses, and dispirited by its failures, was out of heart; it had no trust in his capacity as a commander, and could not be expected to fight with enthusiasm on his behalf.  There is also reason to believe that he was generally unpopular on account of his haughty and tyrannical temper, and his contempt of law and usage, where they