Jewish ancestry was a sensitive issue in early modern Spain – a legacy of official attempts to coerce Muslim and Jewish subjects to convert to Catholicism. Suspicion of and discrimination against conversos was entrenched in certain strata of Spanish society. The early Society of Jesus, largely dominated by men of Spanish origins, was not exempt from tension over the place of New Christians or conversos, that is, Catholics of Jewish descent. Many senior Jesuits were of converso lineage, and St Ignatius himself had pronounced pro-Jewish feelings, but anti-converso sentiment also ran strong.¹ An attempt to introduce purity-of blood restrictions was narrowly defeated at the Third General Congregation of the Society in 1573, and the matter was raised again in the Fifth, held in Rome from 03 November 1593 to 18 January 1594. This time, a decree was passed, which excluded Catholics of Jewish descent from entering the Society.²

Several prominent members of the Society were moved to compose letters and memorials in an attempt to persuade the fifth superior general of the Society, Claudio Acquaviva,³ to reverse or moderate the decision, which seemed to have been made under pressure from the Spanish royal court. The three Jesuits, whose correspondence is considered below, were closely connected, either personally or through common associates. The leader of the English Jesuits, Robert Persons, had been sent to Spain by Acquaviva in 1588 to deal with the memorialista controversy in the Society of Jesus – which played a significant part in the passing of the 1593 decree. Persons remained there until 1596, directing the Jesuit mission to England and founding English seminaries in Valladolid and Seville. When he received news of the decree, he expressed his disquiet in a letter to Acquaviva, written from the palace of the duke of Arcos in Marchena (about 60 km east of Seville) in May 1594.⁴

Diego de Guzmán (c.1522–1606) was the uncle of Persons’s host. He was admitted to the Society of Jesus in 1552 after performing the Spiritual Exercises under Francisco de Borja, later superior general.⁵ Soon afterwards, he and his fellow Jesuit, Gaspar de Loarte (1498–1578), came under suspicion of the Inquisition. Antonio de Araoz (1515–1573), provincial superior for Castile, argued that both should be dismissed. In the event, Ignatius allowed them to stay, calling them to Rome given that they were unwelcome in Spain. Loarte and Guzmán suspected that Loarte’s converso ancestry was the reason for Araoz’s attitude. It is thus not surprising that Guzmán, who had criticised Araoz for a lack of evangelical spirit, was strongly opposed to the 1593 decree. He composed a 2300-word pro-converso memorial addressed to the like-minded Pedro de Ribadeneyra (1526–1611),⁶ but most likely intended this to be developed into a formal appeal or memorial to Acquaviva, calling for the abrogation of the 1593 decree.⁷

It is likely that Persons met Guzmán, who was active at the College of St Hermenegild in Seville, at the same time as Persons was establishing the English college there. Moreover, he was associated with both Loarte and Ribadeneyra: Loarte’s Essercitio della vita Christiana (1562) gave the initial inspiration for Persons’s First booke of the Christian exercise (1582), which in its various forms became a phenomenal best-seller in Elizabethan England (Pearsons 1998). Ribadaneyra’s influential Spanish history of the English reformation was composed at Persons’s urging and based on his expanded edition of Nicholas Sander’s De origine ac progressu schismatis Anglicani [The Origin and Growth of the English Schism] (Weinreich 2017). Persons and Ribadeneyra met several times in Spain in 1593–1594.⁸

Antonio Possevino met Persons in Rome in about 1575 when he was secretary of the Society.⁹ In 1577, he was sent to Sweden as an undercover papal agent, taking with him Persons’s friend and mentor, William Good.¹⁰ Later, Possevino was engaged in diplomatic missions to Poland and Russia. As an Italian Jesuit, probably of converso descent himself, he wrote powerful pro-converso memorials in 1576 and 1598.

The criticism of the new legislation expressed by Persons, Guzmán and Possevino is testimony to an important strain in Jesuit thinking in the late 16th century. This article analyses extracts from their commentary, focusing on the varying rhetorical styles and considering the implications of the conflicting attitudes for our understanding of Acquaviva’s generalate.

Decree 52 of the Fifth General Congregation, promulgated on Thursday 23 December 1593, argues, on the principle of serving the greater glory of God above all else, that:

Even though some participants appealed for reconsideration, the congregation confirmed the decree (Rastoin 2007:8–9). When we consider the circumstances behind the decision, it seems clear that the wording disguises a strategic manoeuvre, using a dubious argument about conversos’ lack of credibility that Guzmán, Possevino and others could counter with weighty evidence.

Robert Maryks (2010:xxviii) has no doubt that Acquaviva played a decisive role in the promulgation of the law banning conversos from the society. What lies behind his support for the decree? He may have been influenced by Manuel Rodrigues (1534–1596) (Weber 2022:546), and Paul Hoffaeus (1530–1608) (Maryks 2010:144), assistants to the general for Portugal and Germany respectively, to question the character of conversos. Acquaviva’s main motive was, however, to gather support for his campaign to maintain the independence of the Society in Spain from the authority of the Inquisition and the king. Phillip II, ‘who seemed unimpressed with the new religious order’ (Manning 2021:26), had planned to subject it to external visitation, largely due to the influence of the Inquisition. Moreover, a significant party of Jesuits in Spain, known as the memorialistas, were agitating for greater autonomy from the Jesuit curia in Rome.

To assert his authority and maintain the unity of the Society, Acquaviva sent José de Acosta (1540–1600) and Robert Persons on a diplomatic mission to Madrid to secure his right as superior general of the Society to appoint his own Visitors to the Spanish provinces.¹¹ The memorialistas fought back, and Acosta himself supported their demand to be heard at a General Congregation.¹² At the Congregation, Acquaviva, prevailing over the Spanish revolt, as we may call it, was willing to promote a decree which not only satisfied Iberian national feelings and prejudices, especially at court, but would also suit the king’s constitutional vision (Rastoin 2007:19). Significantly, both Acosta and Persons were opposed to discrimination against conversos: Acosta was one of only two delegates to vote against the decree,¹³ and Persons, as we shall see, was embarrassed by its passing.

Robert Persons joined the Society of Jesus in Rome in 1575. He returned to England on a mission with Edmund Campion (1540–1581) in 1580, but after Edmund Campion’s arrest he crossed to France and remained in exile for the rest of his life. He directed the English Jesuit mission from abroad: first in France, then in Rome and Spain, and was finally appointed as rector of the English college, Rome. He worked tirelessly for the reconversion of England and took upon himself the role of apologist of English Catholicism, writing over 30 printed books (Houliston 2018). The decree reached him in May of 1594, when, en route to Madrid, he stopped at Marchena at the invitation of the third duke of Arcos, Rodrigo Ponce de Léon (1534–1630).

Persons found himself in a difficult position, as he had earlier tried to dissuade Philip’s court from pursuing discrimination against conversos. On 12 May 1594, he wrote a long letter to Acquaviva, reserving his comments on the decrees of the General Congregation to the very end. Presumably conscious that what he had to say would be less than welcome, he began by enthusing about the state of the college in Seville, and then went on to discuss how he proposed to handle the tension in Flanders between two Jesuits: the Englishman, William Holt, and the Scotsman, William Crichton. This was just the kind of leadership question which Persons and Acquaviva discussed confidentially in their letters – it was safe ground (Houliston 2018). Then Persons (1998) introduced his discussion of the troublesome decree:

He treads lightly: at first making use of the ‘third person perspective’ or ‘point of view’ to create the effect of an impersonal observer, presenting the reaction to the decree as not coming from himself: ‘There are many’ who have something to say about the decree, ‘some’ say that the decree is unjust on a religious level, while ‘others’ see it as a cause of disagreement within the Society and alienation of influential men outside the Society. Persons does not take responsibility for these opinions but reports them indirectly.

When turning to the reception of the decree at the court, Persons leaves behind the logical objections to the decree and switches to the first person, appealing or with reference to his own experience: he himself has gauged the temperament and knows the procedures at the court. Based on his personal observations, he predicts that the nobility of Spain and, more importantly, the court of Philip will welcome the decree, referring to his own conversations with ministers as evidence. He uses the first person and allows his conscience and his own convictions to shine through when he admits that, while discussing the issue with the ministers, he had brought up many arguments against the exclusion of Jews from the Society. Having laid his true feelings on the line, his overriding submissiveness and obedience to the Society prevail. As a true Jesuit, he will put his personal feelings aside, make a 180-degree about-turn and argue in favour of the decree. This is what is expected of him as a member of the Society of Jesus and Acquaviva’s deputy in Spain.

In this letter, Persons negotiates between two personae: the Jesuit who weighs up principles and submits to the authority of the general and congregation, and the friend and ally who has to deal with difficult situations on the ground. Although the emotional appeal is balanced and muted, it carries weight because of the place of emotion, consolation and desolation in the Ignatian economy of discernment (cf. De Guibert 1986; O’Malley 1993).

Persons had every reason to expect that his account would give Acquaviva pause for thought, but when the general replied on 4th July, he responded only to the news about the college and the problems with Holt and Crichton. In an addendum dated 7th July, he addressed the tricky question of the congregation’s decree on involvement in matters of state, which Persons had raised at the end of his letter, following his comments on the decree about conversos.¹⁵ Clearly Acquaviva was unwilling to enter into any discussion on the matter, even with a Jesuit on whom he relied so much in his dealings with the Society in Spain.¹⁶

Diego de Guzmán was the son of the first count of Bailén, Rodrigo Ponce de Léon, grandfather of the duke of Arcos whom Persons was visiting when he wrote the letter as discussed above. His own, undated letter is concerned to show that the spirit of the new decree was not consonant either with the Society’s ‘way of proceeding’ or its Constitutions, which stress the importance of harmony among Jesuits and the qualities expected of an effective Jesuit. Brushing aside the wording of the decree, which argues that Jewish lineage is likely to cause offence and compromise the Society’s work in the world, Guzmán noted not only how this purity-of-blood emphasis has already alienated many gifted members of the Society, fuelling tensions and disagreements, but also how it has opened the door for those of lesser credentials but with the ‘right’ lineage, while excluding those whose qualities otherwise exactly match the requirements.

These compelling arguments about the destructive effect of the decree on the Society were, nevertheless, open to contradiction. Acquaviva himself had challenged claims that the decree was highly unpopular (Maryks 2010:182 n51). Arguably, what distinguishes Guzmán’s letter and makes it especially persuasive, is the emotional appeal of a fully realised episode from the life of St Ignatius. Guzmán himself had experienced Ignatius’ welcoming attitude to men of Jewish descent, and this personal testimony energises his relation of a meeting between the founder of the Society and a Jew in the service of Pope Paul III:

It is most unlikely that someone recorded the words of the Jew or of Ignatius but the use of direct speech is an effective literary ploy to create the illusion of authenticity. The Jew, who occupied an important post in the service of Pope Paul III, feels ashamed of his lineage, repeating the standard anti-Semitic charge against his race, which he seems to have internalised. The phrase ‘if God were served’ is telling, because it moderates even his desire to be free of his Jewish burden, scrupulously exercising the Ignatian principle of indifference or detachment. This is a man of rank and dignity, yet he is all submission. Ignatius matches his humility by modestly offering his opinion, carefully expressed. Both he and his companion can identify with Jesus’ humble birth, but in so doing can also claim the honour of descent from the Old Testament patriarchs and the two primary saints of the gospel: the Blessed Virgin Mary and St Joseph.

Through the simple device of a friendly interchange, Guzmán replaces institutional humiliation with the glory of the patriarchs and saints. Ignatius is beatified in anticipation,¹⁷ and the Jew is consoled, a recognisably Ignatian term for a movement of feeling that signals God’s favour. In contrast with the logical and practical arguments set out elsewhere in the letter, this anecdote speaks to the heart and sensibilities of the reader and to the Ignatian conscience. The uncomplicated style of the direct speech quoted in the letter echoes the simplicity of the message that underlies the most important and fundamental argument against the purity-of-blood decree: Our Lord Jesus Christ and his entire family were of Jewish stock.¹⁸ In the event, neither Guzmán’s analysis of consequences, nor his emotional staging of an event from Loyola’s life-story, could sway Acquaviva, for whom other considerations were paramount.

In a long memorial, addressed to Acquaviva and dated 13 October 1598,¹⁹ Possevino laments the way in which Jesuits were treating those of Jewish descent who had been called by God to the Society of Jesus – many of whom had played such a pivotal role as teachers, authors and founders of colleges. In addition, he calls attention to the way it contradicts the spirit of the gospel and of Ignatius of Loyola.

For our purposes, the most remarkable aspect of Possevino’s memorial is the concluding appeal to the example of Acquaviva’s predecessor as superior general, Everard Mercurian (1514–1580; in office 1573–1580). Possevino quotes Mercurian’s call for unity among Jesuits:

Maryks treats this as an attempt to make Acquaviva feel guilty, noting that it is ‘unfair’ or, at least misleading, because Mercurian, who was elected as a compromise candidate at the third general congregation in 1573, had himself purged the Jesuit curia of conversos and removed the volubly pro-converso Possevino from his position as secretary of the Society, sending him to the mission in Sweden (Maryks (2010:162–63, 174–175). It might be more helpful to treat the quotation from Mercurian as a diplomatic manoeuvre, especially in view of the implication of the converso question in the memorialista campaign. Possevino strongly supported both Mercurian and Acquaviva in their resistance to the separatist movement in Spain and here he seems to be urging that if unity is paramount, then all anti-converso sentiment should be eradicated in the spirit of the gospel, even if some concession to that sentiment had to be made strategically in 1593–1594.

In his reply to Possevino,²⁰ Acquaviva openly admits that the major consideration for passing the decree was to preserve the goodwill of the king and his principal ministers. The Society would never have the status it deserved unless the decree was passed. He insists that there had been consensus among the fathers concerning the decree. He denies the allegation that racial slurs followed in the wake of the decree or that he himself practised discrimination on racial origins among those already members of the society. When Possevino wrote again, stressing that the anti-converso decision at the Fifth General Congregation was the result of the need to consolidate support to defeat the memorialistas, Acquaviva seems not to have replied (Donnelly 1986:11–13).

All three appeals to Acquaviva invoke biblical principle and the Jesuit ‘way of proceeding’ as the basis of their argument. The rhetorical challenge the writers face is how to overcome the general’s contrary attachment to the practical demands of expediency. Both Guzmán and Possevino demonstrate the vacuity of the utilitarian argument against the conversos, and Persons implies that he has already started to counter anti-Semitism in the Spanish court. But something more is needed: a change of heart. Persons brings his personal dilemma to bear, Guzmán dramatises Ignatius’ sympathy for the plight of the Jew at the papal court, and Possevino moulds the example of Mercurian in an attempt to shame his successor.

Acquaviva’s resistance can only be adequately explained in the context of the project of his 35-year generalate, which, it is commonly agreed, played a critical role in establishing the character of the Society (Fabre & Rurale 2017). Malachi Martin (1987) claims that he was ‘in a certain sense the second founder of Jesuitism’, arguing that this was largely due to his ‘tight rule and administrative strictness’, which proved the truth of Ignatius’ original perception:

Given Acquaviva’s interest in this intricate combination of men, one can begin to understand why he stood behind the position taken in the decree: that conversos would be a hindrance to the greater work of the Society.

In contrast, Persons, Guzmán and Possevino seem to have kept their distance from Acquaviva’s overriding concern with organisation. At the very end of 1595, Persons wrote a letter to the general expressing mild irritation with the provincial perspective of many of the Jesuits he encountered in Spain:

The letter echoes the main thrust of the pro-converso arguments proposed by Guzmán and Possevino in their memorials: the need for universality and diversity, a generous outlook arising from wide international experience. As general, Acquaviva could be expected to share this outlook – and indeed it is clear that Persons expects that he does – but he would simply not budge. The structural integrity of the Society, as he saw it, was all important.