This monastic seclusion, upon which he entered about the close of 1296, was, however, ere long, broken in upon by one of the most remarkable pontiffs that has occupied the chair of St. Peter, whom we must briefly introduce to the reader. Boniface VIII., of the ancient Roman house of Gaetani, was elected in the end of 1294, to supply the vacancy occasioned by the abdication of Celestine V., a visionary anchorite, whom six months' experience had convinced that the triple tiara was a load ill-suited to his brows. His resignation was chiefly brought about by the intrigues of Cardinal Gaetani, of whom Celestine is said to have predicted that he would attain to the papacy by the arts of a fox, rule it with the fury of a lion, and die the death of a dog. Chosen at an age already much exceeding the ordinary span of human life, Boniface wielded his sovereignty with a boldness of will and an energy of purpose rarely found even in the prime of manhood; and dying at eighty-six, he had in nine years shaken the thrones of many monarchs, by pretensions and intrigues untried by his predecessors. It would be foreign to our purpose to trace his career, and to reconcile the various and contradictory estimates of his character: those who wish to glance at the state of this controversy may consult the pages of two recent periodicals, in which the respective views of ultra Romanist and Protestant writers are ably developed.[23] [Footnote 23: _Dublin Review_, vol. XI., 1841, p. 505. _Brit. and Foreign Review_, vol. XIII., 1842, p. 415.]