Necromancy, a story of the living and the dead

Sometimes it only takes a silence that lasts too long, a grief not properly closed, or a question left unanswered for the idea to take root. What if the dead could still speak to us? What would they say if we knew how to listen at the right moment, in the right place? Necromancy, a word often repeated and distorted, refers to this ultimately very simple human desire: to establish a connection with those who are no longer here. Before being a subject of fiction or esotericism, it speaks to a universal need linked to our relationship with death, memory, and transmission. What follows is not a collection of practices or rituals, but a journey through its history. Exploration.

1. What is necromancy?

Necromancy refers to all the practices by which the living seek to contact the dead — not to resurrect them, but to question them.

It is not about bringing the deceased back to life, as some modern fiction suggests, but about establishing a link with their memory, spirit, or voice. This quest can involve rituals, words, objects, or altered states of consciousness. Behind these actions lies an ancient and shared belief: the dead do not disappear completely, and under certain conditions, they can still respond.

2. The ancient origins of communication with the dead

Long before the Christian era, traces of necromantic practices appear in many civilizations. Historians believe that summoning the spirits of the dead was widespread in Antiquity and dates back to prehistory. The Greek historian Strabo (1st century BC) reports, for example, that necromancy was the main form of divination among the Persians. It is also found in Mesopotamia, among the Chaldeans and in Babylonia: there, necromancers called Manzazuu or Sha’etemmu invoked spirits named Etemmu. Similarly, the ancient Etruscans (a pre-Roman people of Italy) are said to have practiced rites to question the dead. Far from being an isolated phenomenon, it was integrated into the religious beliefs of the time.

In ancient Egypt, closeness to the dead was part of daily spiritual life. Egyptians firmly believed in the survival of the soul and maintained a close connection with their deceased ancestors. A particular practice, known as “letters to the dead,” illustrates this relationship: messages were written on pottery or papyrus, addressed to a deceased relative, then placed in the tomb with offerings of food and drink. The goal was for the spirit of the deceased to read the letter and intervene on behalf of the living – to resolve a family conflict or heal an illness. These letters to the dead, attested as early as the Old Kingdom of Egypt (over 2,500 years BC), show that seeking help from the departed was a natural and legitimate act in Egyptian religion. Communicating with the dead was not considered black magic here; it was an extension of family piety, a way to maintain dialogue within the community beyond the grave.

Necromantéion Sanctuary, Greece. Source: Wikipedia

Among the ancient Greeks, necromancy took on both a mythological and institutionalized dimension. In Homer’s Odyssey (8th century BC), the hero Odysseus performs a ritual under the guidance of the sorceress Circe to speak to the shadows of the dead: he sacrifices animals and pours their blood into a pit to attract souls, to whom he also offers milk and honey. Only the spirit of the seer Tiresias can reveal the way home. This passage, known as the Nekyia, reflects the ancient Greek belief that the dead could deliver messages to the living, provided certain bloody offerings were made to briefly revive them. Later, the Greeks established actual sanctuaries dedicated to these practices: the famous Necromanteion of Acheron in Epirus was an oracle of the dead where priests guided pilgrims through rites intended to summon the souls of their deceased (the Acheron was considered a branch of the Styx). It was believed that, freed from the body, a soul retained its identity and could answer the living’s questions from the realm of the dead, especially about the future. Ritual sacrifices – mixing grains, honey, milk, wine, and animal blood – were offered to attract the shadows, while the seeker underwent strict preparation (fasting, purifications, sometimes hallucinogenic fumigations) to contact the Beyond. These necromantic oracles, where one conversed with the souls of the departed, were regarded as sacred places as respected as Apollo’s oracles – though their atmosphere was much darker and more mysterious.

The Romans largely inherited Greek conceptions. They too imagined that a deceased person did not automatically gain total omniscience. In the Greco-Roman view, the dead “know” only what they knew in life, plus possibly what they might learn from other souls in the afterlife. Their divinatory usefulness was thus limited to personal or family revelations. The poet Ovid, in the 1st century AD, poetically describes a news market in the Underworld where souls exchange gossip and information, suggesting that the dead could inform each other about what happens among the living. In contrast, other ancient cultures attributed unlimited knowledge to spirits of the dead once in the other world, making ancestors sources of supreme wisdom. These differences show how each civilization imagined the power of the dead differently: for some, mere barely conscious shadows; for others, enlightened spirits capable of guiding destinies.

King Saul with the necromancer of Endor. Source: Méditerrannées

Alongside Greco-Roman traditions, there were also necromancy stories in the Near East and pagan Northern Europe. The Hebrew Bible firmly condemns any attempt to consult the dead: the Deuteronomy (which reprises, completes, and reinterprets laws given earlier, notably in Exodus and Leviticus) forbids the Israelites from practicing necromantic divination, calling it an “abomination.” Yet even in the Bible, there is a famous episode of necromancy tolerated by God: the first book of Samuel tells how King Saul, desperate not to receive divine messages, visits the witch of Endor at night to summon the spirit of the prophet Samuel. Samuel’s spirit indeed appears and announces Saul’s imminent defeat, which soon comes true. This story illustrates the constant temptation of men, even the pious, to defy the prohibition to obtain the voice of a venerable dead. Jewish religious authorities viewed these practices very negatively: necromancers were called ôvoth or “bone conjurers,” a derogatory term marking the defilement attached to those who handle the remains of the dead. Later, early Christian theologians took an even firmer stance: according to them, it is impossible to summon a soul without God’s permission, so any spirit responding to the necromancer’s call must be a disguised demon. This interpretation thus equated necromancy with a form of demonology, imposing an absolute ban on communication with the deceased.

In Norse mythology, however, necromantic practice is presented without explicit moral condemnation, reflecting a different cultural approach. Scandinavian sagas and the Poetic Edda contain striking scenes of dialogue with the dead. The god Odin himself, eager for knowledge, descends to the Underworld to awaken a deceased prophetess and question her about the fate of the world – an episode recounted in the poem Völuspá, where the resurrected seer reveals future secrets to Odin. Other Viking heroes do not hesitate to seek help from deceased relatives: for example, the young Svipdag conjures the spirit of his mother Gróa, a deceased sorceress, to cast protective spells from beyond. Some female figures are even considered invincible necromancers: the saga of Hrólf Kraki tells that the princess Skuld, skilled in occult arts, revived fallen warriors to fight again on her behalf. These stories reflect the Norse belief in a real spirit world where the boundaries between life and death can be crossed by magic. Here, there is no demonic pact: raising a dead person depends on the sorcerer’s skill and the power of runes, without morally satanic connotations. Necromancy fits into a shamanic vision where the power to communicate with the dead is an occult gift that can serve heroic or evil purposes depending on the wielder.

3. Necromancy, forbidden and diabolical

With the rise of Christianity in Europe, necromancy fell into the dark and clandestine side. Due to biblical prohibitions, any attempt to converse with the dead was officially banned by the Church. In the Middle Ages, invoking the deceased became synonymous with satanic witchcraft – a serious sin equated with idolatry or demonic magic. Medieval theologians asserted that resurrecting a dead person was God’s prerogative alone, and seeking to do so by occult means was to make a pact with the devil. Spirits summoned during necromantic rites were then interpreted not as true deceased but as deceptive demons sent to mislead humans. Under the influence of Saint Augustine and various councils, necromancy was condemned without reservation: anyone engaging in it, in thought or deed, risked excommunication or even the stake if caught practicing forbidden arts.

Despite this religious iron grip, chronicles and judicial documents reveal the existence of necromancy practitioners within medieval society itself. Notably, it was not simple peasants accused of these practices, but often educated individuals – clergy members or literate nobles. The reason is simple: medieval necromancy required access to esoteric texts in Latin or Hebrew, knowledge of specific prayers, and a codified occult knowledge not easily accessible to common folk. In the 13th century especially, rumors circulated about monks possessing grimoires capable of making the dead speak. Some Inquisition trials mention defrocked priests caught drawing magic circles and summoning spirits in church back rooms. If these sources are to be believed (often biased by torture and inquisitors’ imagination), necromancy survived in the shadows, practiced by a minority of scholars fascinated by the forbidden. Some historians even suggest that these same clerics who publicly condemned necromancy from the pulpit secretly practiced it in hopes of uncovering divine mysteries!

Evocation of Apollonius by Constant. Source: Wikisource

Rare testimonies about actual medieval necromancy describe extremely complex rituals mixing twisted Christian prayers and high magic formulas. A medieval necromancer usually operated at night, in isolated places (ruins, cemeteries, crypts) conducive to contemplation and sacred fear. He would draw a protective circle on the ground in Latin, inscribing esoteric symbols. Dressed in dark robes (sometimes those of a deceased, according to some recipes) and equipped with ritual objects – a sword, a wand, a skull or bones – he recited long litanies. Interestingly, these incantations were modeled on Christian liturgy: God and angels were invoked, not to ask for a miracle, but to witness and compel reluctant spirits to appear. In other words, the medieval necromancer claimed not to act by his own power nor by the devil’s: he presented himself as a conjurer who, in God’s name, commands the dead or demons to appear and speak. This subtle distinction aimed to legitimize the rite – at least in the practitioner’s eyes – by avoiding the blasphemy of an explicit pact with Satan.

The goals pursued by necromancy in the Middle Ages seem relatively pragmatic. It was less about reviving a corpse for morbid pleasure than about obtaining information or services through invisible spirits. Texts from the time – such as the Munich Manuscript, an anonymous 15th-century grimoire – compile necromantic spells to find a stolen object, discover hidden treasure, win someone’s affection, or even become invisible. Many of these rituals involve illusion: for example, creating the appearance of a sumptuous banquet to impress peers, or making an enemy believe demons torment him. This borders on psychological sleight of hand. Other, more formidable spells aimed to summon the shadow of a dead person to question them about a mystery: an unsolved crime, the outcome of a battle, the future of a kingdom. In this case, the necromancer hoped the spirit, freed from worldly constraints, would know the truth and reveal it. But since only inferior or demonic spirits were supposed to respond, the answers were considered deceptive or ambiguous, making necromancy risky. Thus, despite hopes placed in it, medieval necromancy remained marginal. It was feared by the people (who saw necromancers as black witches) and pursued by the Inquisition, while continuing to fuel a certain fascination – that of a “forbidden science” promising occult access to the knowledge of the dead.

4. A revival between occult fascination and rationalist insight

At the end of the Middle Ages and during the Renaissance, Europe’s relationship with magic and necromancy evolved. On one hand, witch and necromancer hunts intensified during the great witch trials (15th-17th centuries); on the other, a new intellectual interest in occult arts emerged, tinged with humanism and scientific curiosity. The Renaissance (16th century) rediscovered ancient texts, including esoteric ones, and scholars like Marsilio Ficino or Cornelius Agrippa tried to rehabilitate a magia naturalis (natural magic) distinct from demonic goetia. In this context, necromancy remained a controversial practice. It became a striking literary motif, symbolizing the forbidden thirst for knowledge. The Italian poet Dante Alighieri, in the early 14th century, staged in his Divine Comedy the ancient witch Erichtho – already present among the Romans – who animates a corpse to predict the outcome of a battle. Later, the English playwright Christopher Marlowe tells the tragic story of Doctor Faustus (1592), a German scholar who initiates necromancy and makes a pact with the devil to summon the dead and spirits, before being damned. This famous Faust legend, later retold by Goethe in the 19th century, popularized the image of the necromancer thirsty for knowledge, willing to risk his soul to question the dead. Through these works, necromancy is depicted ambivalently: both a source of extraordinary knowledge and the ultimate transgression of divine order.

In terms of actual events, as the modern era progressed, reports of necromantic practices became rarer in Europe. The Age of Enlightenment (18th century) valued reason and relegated occult beliefs to superstition. Scholars turned away from alchemy and ceremonial magic, and with them disappeared the figure of the learned necromancer inherited from the Middle Ages. However, the fascination with communication with the dead did not vanish: it simply changed its face. While enlightened philosophers turned the page on traditional occultism, the people and some elites continued to be interested in paranormal phenomena. At the end of the 18th century and especially in the 19th, there was a resurgence of enthusiasm for spirit apparitions and prophecies from beyond – but this time presented in a more “scientific” or at least socially acceptable way.

5. The spiritualist renewal from Victorian salons to spirit circles

The 19th century indeed marks a turning point with the rise of modern spiritualism. From the 1840s-1850s, in Europe and America, it became almost fashionable to hold spirit séances in bourgeois salons. Mediums – often women – claimed to serve as intermediaries between the living and the souls of the dead, transmitting messages and prophecies. Table-turning, knocks on walls, automatic writing, Ouija boards: a whole array of mysterious phenomena was staged to convince the audience of the actual presence of spirits. This spiritist movement, popularized by figures like Allan Kardec in France or the Fox sisters in the United States, gave new legitimacy to what would once have been called necromancy. Now, talking with the dead became a social pastime, even a subject of study. Experimental sessions were organized, spiritist societies founded, attempts made to photograph ghosts. The stated goal was no longer to perform magic, but to explore, in a (pseudo)scientific way, the survival of the soul after death and the possibility of contacting it.

Apparition of Mary Stuart in a divination salon. Source: Wikisource

Despite this modern veneer, traditional Churches were not fooled: for many 19th-century religious figures, spiritualism was nothing but reinvented necromancy. The Vatican and Protestant pastors condemned these mediumship practices, recalling the biblical prohibition against consulting the spirits of the dead. Some Christian circles denounced the dangers of illusion and fraud, others saw the work of the Evil One trying to impersonate the souls of the deceased – a direct echo of medieval doctrine. Articles of the time called mediums “salon necromancers,” emphasizing that beneath the apparent harmlessness of entertainment lay, in their view, the same ancient principle: questioning the dead to know the future or hidden secrets. It is interesting to note, however, that this revival of necromancy in the form of spiritualism far exceeded the circle of confidential occult societies. By the mid-19th century, millions of people in the United States and Europe regularly attended spirit séances, in a curious mix of credulity, fervor, and amused skepticism. In a sense, the taboo was partially lifted: where a few centuries earlier one risked one’s life trying to speak to the dead, one could now do so in society without fearing anything but the mockery of rationalist spirits. This popularity of spiritualism left a lasting mark: even today, the image of a medium communicating with a deceased person in a candlelit room remains a widespread stereotype of necromancy, even if the term “necromancy” itself is rarely used in this context. The 19th century thus saw necromancy become partly democratized and secularized, a prelude to new developments in the 20th century.

6. Necromancy today

In contemporary times, strict necromancy – understood as magical ritual to communicate with the dead – has become rare in the Western world, except through the lens of spiritualism or marginal esoteric practices. However, it would be wrong to think that ritual connection with the dead has disappeared. On one hand, many non-Western cultures have preserved ancestral traditions of communication with the beyond to this day. On the other, the collective imagination continues to keep alive the figure of the necromancer, notably through literature and cinema.

In non-Western societies, what the medieval European once called “necromancy” is an integrated and respected component of local religion or culture. In sub-Saharan Africa, for example, most traditional religions give a central place to deceased ancestors. Ancestor veneration is practiced by offering prayers, food, maintaining graves, and seeking their guidance in the affairs of the living. The goal is not to predict the future spectacularly, but to ensure harmony between the visible and invisible worlds. Ancestors are seen as protectors who can intervene for the good of the family or community. In these cultures, communicating with the dead is a pious and customary act, performed by the head of the family, the shaman, or the village diviner. For example, a medium may be consulted to enter a trance and transmit spirit messages about a given problem (poor harvest, unexplained illness, decision to make). Far from being stigmatized, this interaction with ancestor spirits is socially valued because it strengthens group identity and continuity between generations. This is indeed a form of necromancy – in the sense of communication with the dead – but devoid of the evil connotation it acquired in Europe. On the contrary, it is a pillar of community spirituality, ensuring the benevolence of the ancestors toward their descendants.

In the Americas and the Caribbean, cults born from the syncretism between African traditions and Christianity have also preserved and transformed the necromantic heritage. The case of Haitian voodoo is particularly telling. Born in the colonial era from the encounter between West African slaves and Catholicism imposed by French colonists, voodoo (or vodou) is a religion where communication with spirits is omnipresent. Practitioners honor the loa, intermediary spirits identified with deified ancestors or forces of nature. During voodoo ceremonies, it is common for these spirits to possess a faithful (usually a dancer or the houngan priest himself) to speak through their mouth and advise the assembly. Spirits are asked for advice, healing for the sick, protection against evil; and the spirit embodied in the medium delivers prophecies, recommendations, or warnings. We see that the divinatory and consultative function is quite comparable to that of ancient necromancy – except that here it is embedded in a structured religious framework. Other Afro-Caribbean or Afro-American religions show similar traits. Cuban santería (from the mix of Yoruba from Africa and Catholicism) calls on the spirits of the dead and saints; in Brazil, the quimbanda cult is known for its mediums communicating with the spirits of the deceased and Exu (spiritual entities). These still-living practices show that the art of soliciting the dead has not disappeared; it has simply taken the varied faces of syncretic cultures. Of course, followers of these religions will not call themselves “necromancers” because the word is pejorative; they see it rather as a form of prayer to saints, ancestor intercession, or sacred mediumship. The boundary is thin and sometimes controversial – some evangelical Christian currents in Africa still accuse these practices of being disguised necromancy, faithful to the biblical prohibition. Nevertheless, it is clear that in large parts of the world, ritual communication with the dead remains a culturally accepted reality, inherited from a long history.

As for the modern imagination, it continues to seize the theme of necromancy with a mix of fear and fascination. Fantasy literature, video games, and cinema have popularized a very spectacular and macabre image of the necromancer, very different from historical practices. Today, the term spontaneously evokes the evil mage surrounded by obedient skeletons and zombies. This stereotype draws from two sources: it combines the figure of the medieval sorcerer commanding the dead (as fantasized since Faust) with elements borrowed from Caribbean zombie folklore. Indeed, in 20th-century Western popular culture, the zombie – a corpse brought back to a semblance of life by magic – became emblematic of evil necromancy. Authors like H. P. Lovecraft, then all horror cinema, anchored the idea that the necromancer could awaken armies of undead to serve his purposes. While this imagery is striking, it diverges radically from historical reality. True necromancers, whether ancient, medieval, or tribal, more often sought to converse with a spirit than to resurrect a body. Necromancy was a matter of words, visions, oracles – rarely of walking corpses. The rare cases of “zombies” in history (notably in Haiti, where stories tell of the dead reanimated by sorcerers, probably via neurotoxic poisons) belong more to folklore than divinatory necromancy. It is therefore important to distinguish the myth of the flesh-eating necromancer from fiction, and the real, discreet, and highly symbolic practice of communication with spirits.

Finally, our contemporary era sees coexist a scientific perspective – explaining mediumship and apparitions through psychology or fraud – and a persistent human need to believe in an accessible afterlife. Modern mediums and ghost hunters, TV shows about spirit contact, or simply commemorations like the Day of the Dead (where the souls of ancestors are symbolically invited to return among us for a celebration) all testify to the survival of necromancy in our societies in softened forms. “Pure” ritualized necromancy has become rare, but the aspiration it reflects – to build a bridge with the departed – remains deeply rooted. Nowadays, a grieving person may consult a spirit medium hoping to receive a message from a deceased loved one, reproducing in modern terms the age-old gesture of the necromancer who once traced a magic circle. The setting changes, the intention remains.

Quest for knowledge, need for consolation, or thirst for power – motivations vary, but the hope remains the same. As a modern author wrote, necromancy is “the ancient practice of finding a way to make those who were not meant to speak again: the dead.” Throughout all ages, humans have refused to believe that death could reduce their loved ones to absolute silence. Thus were born rituals, myths, and prayers to give a voice back to the absent. Serious and solemn for some, feared and forbidden for others, necromancy, in its many forms, testifies to the eternal dialogue humanity tries to establish with the unknown beyond. And if the dead speak to us, it is clear that, since time immemorial, we have always tried to listen.