José Fernández Bremón's 'Sacrilege (Episodes from the 23rd Century)'

José Fernández Bremón's 'Sacrilege (Episodes from the 23rd Century)'

The following short story was published by the Madrid literary magazine Gente Vieja at the very end of 1900. This publication had the running theme of imagining what the new 20th century would be like, and to this end invited readers and writers to contribute their ideas. The writer José Fernández Bremón decided to go even further, and wrote a short story about what he imagined life would be like for the world in the three centuries from 1900. His 'anti-Semitic' short story, 'Sacrilege (Episodes from the 23rd Century)', is translated here as far as is possible (the first column of text having been destroyed) out of historical interest. It demonstrates that all over Europe, even as far back as 1900 (before WWI, the rise of Bolshevism and the Jewish settlement of Palestine), the most intelligent goyim were able to see what international Jewry was planning. Not only does Fernández Bremón predict the continued rise of the Jew World Order with its global headquarters in Jerusalem, he also predicts how mass entertainment will become a form of torment, or 'triggering', for all normal people. Like all of the best writers, there is a twist in the tale, so it is worth reading until the end.

“Sacrilege”, by José Fernández Bremón, published in Gente Vieja magazine, 21st December 1900. Translated for The Purity Spiral by Dr. Hamish Owens.

(We take up the story with our Spanish hero having woken up after a coma of 300 years in the year 2201 and, having left the hospital accompanied by a guide who happens to be Jewish by birth, finds himself in a strange but beautiful city…)


“Where are we?”

“We are in the capital of the world.”

“Berlin? I don’t know, I’m confused.”

“We are in Jerusalem. Can’t you see that temple with the twisted columns? That’s the rebuilt temple of Solomon.”


“Tell me,” I said to him shortly afterwards, sitting on a stone in the Valley of Josaphat, “how has all this happened?”

“In the most natural way,” the guide answered. “We, the sons of Israel, acquired all of the transport routes and hoarded all of the gold, silver, copper, iron, mercury and coal. Even water flowing down a slope flows in our direction. By means of crafty syndicates, we made ourselves the kings of wheat, of the meat trade, of fish and of every foodstuff. In addition, we monopolised the press and every industry, turning the world into a public limited company in which we, the Jews, possess all of the shares. This allowed us to buy the Sultan of Palestine, impose hunger and poverty on any region, and ensure that everyone who eats, drinks, wears clothes, writes, works, gets ill, cures, fights or is entertained, pays his dues to the eleven tribes.

“What do you mean eleven?”

“It’s because we suppressed the tribe of Dan to merge it with the tribe of Issachar.”

“And how have England, Germany, France, Russia and the United States consented to this domination?”

The Israelite looked at me with pity.

“You could not know,” he answered, “that which today even schoolboys are aware of – that all of the riches of these nations were ours, and the only thing they possessed was the obligation to work and wage war.”

“Where are those shackled men going?” I asked, interrupting the dialogue, on seeing a squad of men who looked like prisoners pass by.

“They are going to the theatre.”

“To be entertained?”

“I can well see that you have been asleep for three centuries – the theatre may have been a form of recreation in the past, but it has been over two centuries now that comedies are only written to bore, irritate and torment the viewer. All of the statute books have included theatre into their hard sentencing. Those wretches are going to serve one or more season tickets as a court order.

“I just can’t get over it,” I exclaimed, “and going back to our previous conversation, I just don’t get why the nations don’t use force against you.”

“That’s because military force resides in machines so expensive that we have them locked in our vaults.”

“Does Spain still exist?”

“Don’t talk to me about Spain – it’s an unruly nation that, as it doesn’t produce, it doesn’t pay taxes. It doesn’t want to europeanize, nor adopt globalised cuisine, and spends its life playing the guitar, going to bullfights and eating its chickpeas, drinking cheap wine and pawning monuments.”

“But work will make the industrious nations free from your authority.”

“They have centuries to go, based on the rate of liquidation right now. We have presented the world with the bill for all of the damage and losses that they have done to us – it turns out that Baltasar’s feast was served by Jews and wasn’t paid for, and now we are recouping the losses we suffered while in captivity in Babylon.”


When we returned to Jerusalem, we saw a huge crowd at the gates of the city.

“Is it a good idea to go on?” I asked, “the people look restless”.

“They are restless with joy – can’t you see how both men and women are waving palm leaves? There has been some good news and an ovation for our monarch, whom we call Supreme Arcad for his greatness.”

“So who rules in Jerusalem?”

“Always the principal shareholder. Can’t you hear them clamouring?”

In effect, the multitude raised their palm leaves, shouting:

“Viva! Viva Abraham III!”

When we reached the horde I was stunned by the luxury of their clothing and of the tapestries hanging on the walls. Jerusalem was celebrating the news that war had been declared between Africa and the Americas – each continent had signed a large loan and had placed a huge order of war machines, leading the shares of the nation of Israel to double in value. Abraham III, preceded by the High Priest and the Levites, was followed by the masses, while the elders and the maidens sang as antiphonal choirs:

Elders: Your eyes are sacred – when you raise them to heaven, our investment funds go up.

Maidens: Your voice has a silvery timbre; you drink dissolved pearls from chalices, your gold glasses turn towards me.

Elders: You are a magnet that attracts all of the earth’s precious metals; when you write, your scratching pen sparks pounds sterling. Who will ever discover the bottom of your coffers?

Maidens: Giddy with love, the daughters of Zion follow you, because your lips are two rubies and your nails ivory.

Elders: You rule over the liquids, and set the price of wine and olive oil. Without your assent, there is no salad on the table.

Maidens: Oh, for the poor girl you look upon! Oh, for the poor girl you do not want to look upon! Like the branches of the palm tree, we lean towards you.

Elders and Maidens: Hosanna! Hosanna! You are the true Messiah.

I wanted to see the Monarch, and fighting my way through the crowd, I managed to get myself a short distance behind him. He wore over his lace tunic a chasuble of tiny pearls that I seemed to remember seeing in the tabernacle at Toledo. The multitude pushed me towards him and Abraham III gave out a terrible cry.

In an instant I found myself restrained, beaten, cursed and taken for sacrifice!

“Sacrilege! Sacrilege!” - shouted the crowd, vilifying me, while Abraham III continued crying out.

I was terrified.

I had stepped on his tail by accident.