Another brother, who was ill, had a great longing for grapes, but feared to indulge himself in case he should be breaking his vows. Francis found out, some way or other, how he felt, and, going to him, led him out into a vineyard, and, gathering some rich clusters, seated himself on the ground, and, beginning to eat, invited his companion to join him. If any were weak and ailing, it was always Francis who was first to take a vessel and go out and beg for more nourishing food for his ailing comrades. A mother could not have been more tender than he was.
In a very great measure Francis possessed the discernment of spirits. He seemed to know intuitively what people were thinking about. One day, during the last years of his life, when he had been obliged through bodily weakness to ride on an ass, he surprised the brother who was trudging alongside him, by getting off and saying—
Francis' Tact.
"Here, brother, get on, it is more fitting that you, who are of noble birth, should ride, rather than I, who am of humble origin."
The brother immediately fell on his knees and, asking forgiveness, confessed that he had been grumbling to himself that he, whose family would never have had anything to do with that of Pietro Bernardone's, had been obliged to follow the ass of Francis Bernardone!
Another brother was greatly troubled because he thought Francis did not love him. He told himself that Francis hardly ever noticed or spoke to him, and then he began to argue that probably God, too, paid no attention to him. He determined to see his leader about it. As soon as ever he appeared before Francis, and before he could get out a word, Francis said—
"It is a temptation, my brother, believe me, it is a temptation. I have the truest affection for you, and you deserve this affection. Come to me whenever you want, and we will talk things over."
One can easily imagine the joy of the once forlorn brother!
Not only could Francis move the crowds and hold them spell-bound with his fiery words, but he had also the power to reach and touch men's hearts in private. He was always accessible to that individual, be he saint or sinner, who was in need. In times of darkness and depression, he was the support of the brothers. He knew well the stages that a soul passes through after it has taken the final step of separateness from the world. In critical moments he was theirs to soothe and comfort with prayer and advice. It was not only the faltering saint that he lavished his tenderness upon; he was just as careful of the faulty and ungrateful, and nothing could exceed the love with which he strove to lure them back when he saw they were inclined to go ever so little astray. "A superior," he used to say, "is more of a tyrant than a father if he waits to interfere until a fault has been committed or a fall has occurred!"
No Alternative.