The Historian as Necromancer

The care of the dead – this is what is incumbent upon the historian: the memory of the forgotten is our sacred task. In return for our safekeeping we coax forth their witness, though the longer gone their living traces, the tighter their lips. Despite this we manage to gather their words and deeds and from these make the silence of the centuries speak their truth as they haunt the interstices, ellipses, and silences of the record. We have that power, if by dint long and careful study of the secrets of our craft. We shepherd these ghosts, the spirits of those gone before us. I suggested this to historian Sylvain Piron. Soon afterward, in his defense for position of full professor at the EHESS, Paris, he wrote the following:



"A friend who is attentive to my work recently suggested a definition of my activity: I would be a necromancer, since my craft consists of making the dead speak. At the moment I was somewhat disconcerted, but I had to quickly admit that this description is perfectly receivable [....] Thus I practice what I analyse. This rule has for correlation the political value accorded to friendship. To say anew with Oresme, quoting Cicero, "We are not born for ourselves but for our friends and the country." If there is no doubt that we do think for our friends, it remains to determine what the true country of the historian is. For long since, we no longer practice national histories. Our calling is assuredly universal. In this sense, the country of the historian is quite simply the country of the dead... the care of the dead is the responsibility that falls to us, in a world that tends to enclose itself in a perpetual present."- Professor Sylvain Piron (translation mine)



(Une amie, attentive à mon travail, m’a récemment proposé de définir mon activité : je serais nécromancien, puisque mon métier consiste à faire parler les morts. Sur le coup, j’ai été quelque peu déconcerté, mais il m’a fallu rapidement admettre que cette description est parfaitement recevable. [....] C’est ainsi que je la pratique et que je l’analyse. Cette règle a pour corrélat une valeur politique accordée à l’amitié. Pour le dire une nouvelle fois avec Oresme, citant Cicéron, « Nous ne sommes pas nés pour nous-mêmes, mais pour nos amis et le pays. ». S’il est hors de doute que nous pensons pour nos amis, reste à déterminer quel est le vrai pays de l’historien. Il y a longtemps que nous ne pratiquons plus des histoires nationales. Notre vocation est assurément universelle. En ce sens, le pays de l’historien serait tout simplement le pays des morts. La dernière différence avec le médecin s’effacerait ainsi : le soin des morts est la responsabilité qui nous incombe, dans un monde qui tend à s’enfermer dans un présent perpétuel.)