So great a favourite as Champagne now is with all classes in England, the earliest notice of it in connection with our history nevertheless represents it in a somewhat inimical light. For, according to an Italian writer of the fifteenth century, 'the strong and foaming wine of Champagne was found so injurious that Henry V. was obliged, after the battle of Agincourt, to forbid its use in his army, excepting when tempered with water.'[254] Although this may be the earliest mention of the wine of the Champagne by name in association with our own countrymen, opportunities had been previously afforded to them of becoming acquainted with its assumed objectionable qualities. The prelates who crossed 'the streak of silver sea' with Thurstan of York to attend the ecclesiastical councils held at 'little Rome,' as Reims was styled in the twelfth century, and the knights and nobles who swelled the train of Henry II. when he did homage to Philip Augustus at the latter's coronation, may be regarded as exceptionally fortunate, or unfortunate, in this respect, since the bulk of the English wine-drinkers of that day had to content themselves with the annual shipments of Anjou and Poitevin wines from Nantes and La Rochelle.[255] But the stout men-at-arms and death-dealing archers who followed the third Edward to the gates of Reims in the days when ''Twas merry, 'twas merry in France to go, A yeoman stout with a bended bow, To venge the King on his mortal foe, And to quaff the Gascon wine,' no doubt found consolation for some of the hardships they endured during their wet and weary watches in the bitter winter of 1365 in the familiarity they acquired with the vintages of the Mountain and the Marne. [Illustration] And, their sovereign's prohibition notwithstanding, there is every reason to believe that the heroes of Agincourt drank pottle-deep of the forbidden beverage. The grim Earl of Salisbury bore no love to the burghers of Reims;[256] but there is little likelihood that his aversion extended to the wine of the province he ruled as governor, and the garrisons of its various strongholds over which the red cross of St. George triumphantly floated revelled on the best of 'the white wyne and the rede.' In the days of hot fighting and keen foraging which marked the close of Bedford's regency, there is ample evidence to show that our countrymen had acquired and retained a very decided taste for these growths. When Charles VII. entered Reims in triumph, with Jeanne Darc by his side and the chivalry of France around him, the retreating English garrison bore forth with them on the opposite side of the city a string of wains piled high with casks of wine, the pillage of the burghers' cellars.[257]