In those days religion was joyful, popular--democratic as you would say, Gabriel; there was no Inquisition, nor suspicion of heresy to embitter the soul with fanaticism and fear.

All the coarse wind and stringed instruments that the artisans had in the towns, or the labourers in the fields, came into the churches, and the organ was accompanied by violas, violins, bagpipes, flutes, guitars and lutes.

The plain song was the established liturgy almost throughout Europe; but the people disliked it, and interspersed it with songs, and at the great festivals, religious hymns were sung, adapted to the popular melodies then in fashion, such as 'The song of the armed man,' 'Morencia, give me a kiss,' 'I know not what confuses me,' 'Weep for me, lady,' 'Bad luck to him who married you,' and others in the same style.

And Rome, you will ask, and the Church?
What did it say about such disorders?
The Church lived without artistic perception: it never had any.

What are the boundaries between religious and profane music?
From the sixteenth to the seventeenth century all critics have asked themselves this question, but the Church let them talk, accepting everything without remark.