They must be destitute of imagination, indeed, who cannot find
pleasure in the contemplation of the night-scenes of Bombay, either
from its native crowds, or the delicious solitudes of its sylvan
shades. The ear is the only organ absolutely unblest in this sunny
island, the noises being incessant, and most discordant; the shrieking
of jackals by night is music compared to that from native instruments,
which, in the most remote places, are continually striking up:
the drums, trumpets, bells, and squeaking pipes, of a neighbouring
village, are now inflicting their torments upon my distracted brain
in the most barbarous manner possible. The exertions of the performers
never appear to relax, and by night or day, it is all the same; they
make themselves heard at any distance, parading along the roads for
the sole purpose, it should seem, of annoying the more peaceable
inhabitants. Certainly, the sister arts of music and painting have
yet to make their way in India, the taste for both being at present
perfectly barbarous.
The European bands, when playing on the Esplanade, attract a very
considerable number of natives; but whether congregated for the
purpose of listening to the music, or merely for the sake of
passing the time, seems very doubtful.
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