In Search of the Miraculous

will remain such as he is. But if a struggle begins in him, and particularly if there is a definite line in this struggle, then, gradually, permanent traits begin to form

themselves, he begins to 'crystallize.' But crystallization is possible on a right foundation and it is possible on a wrong foundation. 'Friction,' the struggle between 'yes' and

'no,' can easily take place on a wrong foundation. For instance, a fanatical belief in

some or other idea, or the 'fear of sin,' can evoke a terribly intense struggle between

'yes' and 'no,' and a man may crystallize on these foundations. But this would be a

wrong, incomplete crystallization. Such a man will not possess the possibility of

further development. In order to make further development possible he must be

melted down again, and this can be accomplished only through terrible suffering.

"Crystallization is possible on any foundation. Take for example a brigand, a really good, genuine brigand. I knew such brigands in the Caucasus. He will stand with a

rifle behind a stone by the roadside for eight hours without stirring. Could you do

this? All the time, mind you, a struggle is going on in him. He is thirsty and hot, and

flies are biting him; but he stands still. Another is a monk; he is afraid of the devil; all night long he beats his head on the floor and prays. Thus crystallization is achieved.

In such ways people can generate in themselves an enormous inner strength; they can

endure torture; they can get what they want. This means that there is now in them

something solid, something permanent. Such people can become immortal. But what

is the good of it? A man of this kind becomes an 'immortal thing,' although a certain

amount

of consciousness is sometimes preserved in him. But even this, it must be

remembered, occurs very rarely."

I recollect that the talks which followed that evening struck me by the fact that many

people heard something entirely different to what G. said;

others only paid attention to G.'s secondary and nonessential remarks and remembered

only these. The fundamental principles in what G. said escaped most of them. Only

very few asked questions on the essential things he said. One of these questions has

remained in my memory.

"In what way can one evoke the struggle between 'yes' and 'no' in oneself?"

someone asked.

"Sacrifice is necessary," said G. "If nothing is sacrificed nothing is obtained. And it is necessary to sacrifice something precious at the moment, to sacrifice for a long time

and to sacrifice a great deal. But still, not forever. This must be understood because often it is not understood. Sacrifice is necessary only while the process of

crystallization is going on. When crystallization is achieved, renunciations, privations, and sacrifices are no longer necessary. Then a man may have everything he wants.

There are no longer any laws for him, he is a law unto himself."

From among those who came to our lectures a small group of people was gradually

formed who did not miss a single opportunity of listening to G. and who met together

in his absence. This was the beginning of the first Petersburg group.

During that time I was a good deal with G. and began to understand him better. One

was struck by a great inner simplicity and naturalness in him which made one

completely forget that he was, for us, the representative of the world of the miraculous

and the unknown. Furthermore, one felt very strongly in him the entire absence of any

kind of affectation or desire to produce an impression. And together with this one felt

an absence of personal interest in anything he was doing, a complete indifference to

ease and comfort and a capacity for not sparing himself in work whatever that work

might be. Sometimes he liked to be in gay and lively company; he liked to arrange big

dinners, buying a quantity of wine and food of which however he often ate or drank

practically nothing. Many people got the impression that he was a gourmand, a man

fond of good living in general, and it seemed to us that he often wanted to create this impression, although all of us already saw that this was "acting."

Our feeling of this "acting" in G. was exceptionally strong. Among ourselves we often said we never saw him and never would. In any other man so much "acting"

would have produced an impression of falsity. In him "acting" produced an

impression of strength, although, as I have already mentioned, not always; sometimes

there was too much of it.

I was particularly attracted by his sense of humor and the complete

absence of any pretensions to "sanctity" or to the possession of "miraculous" powers, although, as we became convinced later, he possessed then the knowledge and ability

of creating unusual phenomena of a psychological character. But he always laughed at

people who expected miracles from him.

He was an extraordinarily versatile man; he knew everything and could do

everything. He once told me he had brought back from his travels in the East a number