In the evening, the Archbishop of Trêves entertained those who had been present at the morning conference. He thought it might be a means of calming down their minds, and bringing them nearer each other. Luther, who was so intrepid and immovable before arbiters or judges, had, in private society, a good humour and gayety which seemed to promise anything that might be asked of him. The archbishop's chancellor, who had shown so much sternness in his official capacity, joined in the attempt, and, towards the end of the repast, drank Luther's health. He was preparing to return the honour, the wine was poured out, and he was, according to his custom, making the sign of the cross on his glass, when suddenly the glass burst in his hands, and the wine was spilt upon the table. The guests were in consternation. "There must be poison in it,"[566] said some of Luther's friends, quite loud. But the doctor, without being moved, replied, with a smile, "Dear friends, either this wine was not destined for me, or it would have been hurtful to me." Then he calmly added, "The glass burst, no doubt, because in washing it had been too soon plunged in cold water." These simple words, in the circumstances in which they were uttered, have some degree of grandeur, and bespeak unalterable peace. We cannot suppose that the Roman Catholics could have wished to poison Luther, especially at the house of the Archbishop of Trêves. This répast neither estranged nor approximated the parties. The Reformer's resolution came from a higher source, and could not be influenced either by the hatred or the favour of men. [566] "Es müsse Gift darinnen gewesen seyn."--Luther does not mention the circumstance, but Razeburg, a friend of Luther, and physician to the Elector John Frederick, relates it in a manuscript history which is extant in the library of Gotha, and says he had it from an eye-witness.