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
Palaeologi 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
and Thomas, reigned as despots of the Morea in Greece; but the ruin
of the empire was the gloomy prelude to their own misfortunes.
Demetrius became the pensioner of the new Turkish emperor Mohammed,
and received a city of Thrace and some adjacent islands for his own
maintenance and that of his followers. In this state of humiliating
dependence he remained until death released him from his ignominious
servitude. Thomas, the other brother, was driven into exile by the
invasion of his dominions. He fled to Corfu, and from thence to
Italy--according to Gibbon's account--'with some naked adherents;
his name, his sufferings, and the head of the apostle St Andrew,
entitled him to the hospitality of the Vatican, and his misery was
prolonged by a pension of 6000 ducats from the pope and cardinals.'
He left two sons (he must have had a third, as will afterwards
appear), Andrew and Manuel, who were educated in Italy. The eldest
degraded himself by the looseness of his life and marriage, and died
the inheritor of an empty title. Manuel was tempted to revisit his
native country; and after spending the remainder of his life in
safety and ease at Constantinople, he was gathered to his fathers,
'an honourable train of Christians and Moslems attending him to the
grave.'

From this date--early in the sixteenth century--little is known of
the name and lineage of the Palaeologi. The crescent waved over the
royal city of Constantine; and, as an old Byzantine annalist
remarks, the last heir of the last spark of the Roman Empire seemed
to be extinct. History had forgotten them, and the restless tide of
human vicissitudes rolled onwards, unconscious of their existence.
Italy was understood to be the asylum of the imperial outcasts; and
there they might have vegetated in ob