Ferdinand had a fool of quite another quality in the person of Ciajesius, who was a melancholy and serious fool, addicted to gloomy prophesying and solemn admonishings, rather than to quips and jests, like his fellow-professors. As he was well acquainted with Latin, the Grand Duke appointed him to the office of tutor to his young sons, that they might learn the language from him colloquially. When he laid down his more respectable vocation, he asked permission to proceed to Padua, to take the degree of Doctor of Laws. Ferdinand refused, on the ground that the dignity would be lowered by its being conferred, by favour or otherwise, on a court fool. But Ciajesius contrived to escape to “learned Padua,” where he submitted to examination, and returned to Florence triumphantly with his diploma. Ferdinand roughly reproached the authorities of the University, for making a doctor of his fool, and thereby a fool of the Grand Duke. They replied that the profession of the candidate was entirely unknown to them; and that they did not remember any one having passed more creditably through his examination. Ferdinand would have preferred a fool to a philosopher, like Gian Andrea Doria of Genoa, who once being ill, and condemned to take some very disagreeable remedies, and to adopt a very unpalatable diet, summoned his jester Feo to his room, and ordered him to take the same remedies and follow the same course of diet as his ducal master. “Why, master,” said Feo, “you are like the condemned in the infernal regions, who want everybody to suffer just what they do themselves. I beg to be excused.” “No, no, merry friend,” said the Doge, “you ate and drank of the best with me when I was well, and you shall even share the same fare that I have, being ill.” And accordingly Feo was obliged to swallow many a detestable potion; and the mighty but nervous Doge could find delight in the torture and embarrassments to which he exposed his fool.