Katherine Ibbett analyses the place of the self in compassion as explored by three key writers of the European Catholic Reformation, and suggests that attention to the contours of the compassionate self provides an important perspective on the relation between the Christian and the world. The chapter focuses on three texts: the French devout humanist François de Sales’s Introduction à la vie dévote / Introduction to the devout life (1609), the Italian Jesuit Roberto Bellarmino’s De gemitu columbiae, sive de bono lacrymarum /The Mourning of the Dove, or the value of tears (1617) and the French Jesuit Pierre Le Moyne’s La dévotion aisée / An easy devotion (1652). The writers of the Catholic Counter-Reformation looked to draft a new understanding of compassionate social interaction. This model pointed to a new and more worldly form of Christian civility, generated and underwritten by a sweet management of our own self.

In 1582, after his time with the Maronites, Eliano was sent directly to Egypt in order to attempt once again to convert the Copts to Catholicism. With the financial backing of King Henry III of France and the help of Paolo Mariani, the French consul in Alexandria and a close associate of Coptic Patriarch John XIV, Eliano hoped that he could convince the Copts to conduct a synod that would mark an important first step toward full Coptic conversion. This chapter follows Eliano’s efforts to transfer the work he was conducting in Lebanon to Egypt. Eliano emphasized his textual skills and his ability to navigate the cultural landscape of Egypt. The chapter ends with Eliano finally convincing the Copts to hold a synod to debate ways to reconcile Catholic and Coptic theology and Christology. This chapter illustrates how, because of fears that Eliano’s Jewish past could still be his undoing, he became preoccupied with proving his sincerity by converting the Copts. However, his ability to do so hinged on his Jewish past as the font of his missionary toolkit.

This chapter begins with the Coptic synod and its subsequent unraveling. First, while many Coptic theologians approved it, the patriarch refused to recognize the accord. Secondly, the synod was rejected in Rome because it was seen as heretical. Moreover, when the mission’s patron, Henry III, changed consuls, the new consul Cristoforo Vento and Eliano came to blows. In turn, Vento told the Ottoman officials that a Portuguese Jew named David Moze had evidence that Eliano aimed to overthrow Ottoman authority in Egypt. Eliano was arrested and nearly executed. Upon his release, Eliano went to great lengths to prove that his arrest was not the machinations of a Jew who wanted to punish him for his apostasy. While Eliano was eventually able to return to his work with the Copts one he successfully proved that Vento and not Moze was the culprit of the conspiracy against him, the mission’s breakdown and the confrontation with the Jews that led to his arrest are reminders that Eliano’s Jewish past, however helpful it might have been in allowing him to scour religious texts and engage in theological debates, was always potential fodder for accusations of renegadism and opportunism.

This chapter follows Eliano’s successful mission in Lebanon, which included the preparation of a printing press in Rome, sending Lebanese seminarians to Italy, a general synod, and dozens of pastoral visits to Lebanese villages. Nevertheless, his superiors remained skeptical of him. In turn, Eliano needed to find new ways to prove to his superiors that he could lead. In previous missions, he relied on his missionary empathy and emphasized that he alone could aid in conversion because of his own experiences. In this mission, Eliano emphasized his textual and pastoral skills that were grounded in his knowledge of Semitic languages as well as knowledge of colloquial Arabic. He also used his knowledge of scriptural exegesis to liken himself to biblical heroes of the faith, such as the prophet Elijah or John the Baptist – his namesakes. Given that his ability to do all of this was honed during his Jewish youth, Eliano surreptitiously promoted himself to his superiors as the only Jesuit who could safeguard the Maronites. This allowed Eliano to bolster his status as Jesuit by emphasizing his Jewishness while successfully distancing himself from anxieties that he was a crypto-Jew.

In poor health, Eliano was no longer able to conduct missions. However, he continued to write to Egypt concerning others’ efforts to convert the Copts. Eliano’s letters reflect an obsession with securing his legacy given that he was arrested and fled Egypt twice. This chapter also explores Eliano’s 1588 autobiography. Instead of a complete autobiography, Eliano wrote a thirty-seven-page conversion narrative and exploration of his interactions with the Jews. Because Eliano could no longer leave Italy, he used his knowledge of biblical exegesis to recast his conversion as akin to that of the apostle Paul – arguably the most famous Jewish convert to Christianity – in order to demonstrate to his superiors that his conversion was sincere and that it was his purity in spirit, not his birth, that mattered. The final document that this chapter explores is the last extant letter in Eliano’s hand, a deathbed defense of Paolo Mariani written after Eliano had received his Last Rites. This letter expresses Eliano’s continual efforts to convert the Copts as well as his need to present himself as a Catholic, as he knew that death was imminent. This chapter ends with Eliano’s death on 3 March 1589.

This chapter begins with a brief sketch of Eliano’s time as preacher and professor of Hebrew and Arabic at the Jesuit college in Rome (1563–77). During this period, however, leading Jesuits moved away from admitting men of Jewish lineage into the Society of Jesus. As the only Jewish-born Jesuit, Eliano found himself on the outs with his superiors, such as when Eliano was not trusted to lead the mission to Lebanon called by Pope Gregory XIII in 1577. Yet, his skills were deemed valuable, so he was relegated to interpreter and translator for the mission’s superior, Tommaso Raggio. However, once the mission began, Raggio's inexperience was evident. In turn, neither Eliano nor the Maronites wished to work with Raggio, and the mission was aborted within months. This chapter ends with Eliano’s return to Rome. Chapter Three illuminates the tension that Jesuit leaders had with Eliano. On one hand, they saw in him a uniquely skilled Jesuit because his Jewish youth trained him for this very work. On the other hand, increased institutional skepticism of Jewish-lineage Jesuits meant that his superiors were unwilling to let him lead, lest his potential crypto-Judaism sabotage the mission.

After exploring Eliano’s participation in the burning of the Talmud in Rome in 1553, the introduction outlines the book’s central argument regarding the entanglement of Eliano’s Jewish past and Catholic identity. By exploring Eliano’s Jewishness, which I define as the burden that his Jewish past continued to bear on the formulation of his Catholic identity, I argue that Eliano’s missionary efforts allow us to unpack how sincere converts approached their new religious identities in an age of heightened anxiety regarding religious conversion. By thinking of Eliano as a palimpsest of religious identity formation – someone whose Jewish past continued to play a foundational role in the way he became and existed as a Catholic – the book contributes to our historiographical understanding of the role of the individual in constructing collective identities in the early modern Mediterranean and how individuals were agents of collective change. His story likewise illuminates how Catholic missionary activity was also a field in which missionaries used their efforts to promote the apostolic mission of the Catholic Church to construct fuller senses of themselves and secure their place as Catholics.

This short epilogue revisits the major themes of the book. Rather than delving back into Eliano’s life, this epilogue uses the plaque that was placed in the cobblestones of Campo de’ Fiori in Rome in 2011 to commemorate the burning of the Talmud – in which Eliano participated – in 1553. Inscribed on the plaque are “the pages burn, but the letters fly” and “invoke peace for whoever laments your burning.” These quotes capture the essence of the futility of erasure and desires to ignore the burden that the past bears on the present. But these quotes also point to the very real ways in which the human experience transcends Eliano and the religio-cultural landscape of the early modern Mediterranean. This epilogue invites the reader to think more broadly about identity construction and individuals’ role in it through their interactions with one another. Just as Eliano constructed his sense of self by performing his Catholicness in light of his Jewishness in the theater of the everyday, so too do we confront difference, reconcile pasts and presents, attempt to construct better senses of ourselves, and come to terms with where we fit in the world.

Eliano arrives in Egypt in order to secure the Catholic conversion of the Coptic Orthodox Church. Within weeks, numerous Jews accused him of apostasy and renegadism. While Eliano was able to avoid intrigues by fleeing to the desert with the Coptic Patriarch, the breakdown of talks with the Copts meant that Eliano was back in Alexandria within a year of arriving. While his family seemed keen to avoid all contact with him, other Jews, angry with Eliano for having converted, accused him of blaspheming Islam and converting to Catholicism under spurious circumstances. They bribed the Ottoman governor, resulting in Eliano’s arrest. Eliano fled Egypt in duress and spent the winter of 1562–3 on Cyprus. The chapter ends with his return to Rome. Chapter 2 underscores just how entangled Eliano’s Jewish and Catholic identities were. On one hand, he was selected for this mission because of his experience with Semitic languages and his time as a merchant in Egypt. Yet, other Jews believed he was an opportunist who used his Jewish background for personal gain as a Jesuit. This tension remains a thread throughout the rest of the book, but evolves based on the given circumstances.

This chapter begins with Eliano’s birth and early exposure to a world of cross-cultural exchange. Eliano was raised and educated by his grandfather, Elijah Levita, the famed scholar of Biblical Hebrew who collaborated with Christian Neo-Platonists and Kabbalists such as Marsilio Ficino and Cardinal Egidio da Viterbo. The chapter then turns to Eliano’s time as a merchant in Egypt with his father. Next, Eliano experienced, in quick succession, his older brother’s conversion to Catholicism and the death of Elijah Levita. Within two years, Eliano traveled to Venice, converted to Christianity, and entered the Society of Jesus. This chapter then unpacks Eliano’s first confrontation with his Jewish past when he returns to Venice en route to Egypt. Chapter 1 sets up the remainder of the book by unpacking the various ways in which Eliano’s Jewish youth and his confrontations with it as a Catholic informed his later missionary efforts: he was educated in philology and book printing; he traveled to Egypt and learned Arabic; his brother and the Jesuits welcomed him into their intellectual circle whereas other Jews did not.

Chapter 4 describes how chemists co-constructed the new regime, to the extent that totalitarian political ambitions often converged with totalitarian chemistry projects. In public, aggressive rhetoric against liberal values helped them to reinforce their own professional positions and enthusiastically ascribe to the political and religious values of the dictatorship. The new Francoist chemistry was therefore constructed in strong opposition to the supposedly overly theoretical, elitist, centralised and ‘ideological’ research of the JAE to promote a ‘real’ applied chemistry. The totalitarian dream of the new regime materialised in a new chemistry that had to serve an ambitious reorganisation of the economy of the country through raw materials, industrial progress under strict centralised control and new applied chemistry research lines. Here, the research policies of José María Albareda at the CSIC, the fascist control of the Sindicato Nacional de Industrias Químicas and Emilio Jimeno’s plan for a totalitarian organisation of chemistry in Spain are poignant examples. The chapter also addresses the ways in which the marriage between chemistry and religion contributed to the legitimisation of the regime.