Constantine had nobly done his duty. Amidst the swarms of the enemy
who had climbed the walls and were pursuing the flying Greeks
through the streets, he was long seen with his bravest officers
fighting round his person, and finally lost. His only fear was that
of falling alive into the hands of the Infidels, and this fate he
sought to avert by prudently casting away the purple. Amidst the
tumult he was pierced by an unknown hand, and his body was buried
under a mountain of the slain. The last words he was heard to utter
was the mournful exclamation: 'Cannot there be found a Christian to
cut off my head?' His death put an end to resistance and order, and
left the capital to be sacked and pillaged by the victorious Turks.
Truly has it been said, that the distress and fall of the last
Constantine are more glorious than the long prosperity of the
Byzantine Cæsars.

The difficulties and dying moments of the emperor have been
faithfully and pathetically dramatised by Miss Joanna Baillie in her
tragedy of _Constantine Palæologus_. She adheres closely to history,
only she makes her hero receive his deathblow from the sword of a
relenting Turk, who admires his bravery, and pronounces over him a
farewell eulogy. All writers agree that the last of the imperial
Palæologi was the best of his race; and had he not been so ill
supported by his worthless subjects, and deserted by every Christian
prince in Europe, he might have repelled the tide of Turkish
invasion, though he would never have restored the glory of the
empire. Yet gallantly did he front the storm, and perish as became
the successor of a long line of kings--the last of the Romans.

The fall of Constantine was the signal for the degradation and
dispersion of his whole race. His two surviving brothers, Demetrius