桨声灯影里的秦淮河（1）

一九二三年八月的一晚，我和平伯同游秦淮河，平伯是初泛，我是重来了。 我们雇了一只“七板子”，在夕阳已去，皎月方来的时候，便下了船。 于是桨声汩——汩，我们开始领略那晃荡着蔷薇色的历史的秦淮河的滋味了。 秦淮河里的船，比北京万生园、颐和园的船好，比西湖的船好，比扬州瘦西湖的船也好。 这几处的船不是觉着笨，就是觉着简陋，局促；都不能引起乘客们的情韵，如秦淮河的船一样。 秦淮河的船约略可分为两种：一是大船；一是小船，就是所谓“七板子”。大船舱口阔大，可容二三十人。 里面陈设着字画和光洁的红木家具，桌上一律嵌着冰凉的大理石面。窗格雕镂颇细，使人起柔腻之感。 窗格里映着红色蓝色的玻璃；玻璃上有精致的花纹，也颇悦人目。 “七板子”规模虽不及大船，但那淡蓝色的栏杆，空敝的舱，也足系人情思。 而最出色处却在它的舱前。舱前是甲板上的一部，上面有弧形的顶，两边用疏疏的栏杆支着。 里面通常放着两张藤的躺椅。躺下，可以谈天，可以望远，可以顾盼两岸的河房。 大船上也有这个，但在小船上更觉清隽罢了。舱前的顶下，一律悬着灯彩；灯的多少，明暗，彩苏的精粗，艳晦，是不一的，但好歹总还你一个灯彩。 这灯彩实在是最能勾人的东西。夜幕垂垂地下来时，大小船上都点起灯火。 从两重玻璃里映出那辐射着的黄黄的散光，反晕出一片朦胧的烟霭；透过这烟霭，在黯黯的水波里，又逗起缕缕的明漪。 在这薄霭和微漪里，听着那悠然的间歇的桨声，谁能不被引入他的美梦去呢？ 只愁梦太多了，这些大小船儿如何载得起呀？我们这时模模糊糊的谈着明末的秦淮河的艳迹，如《桃花扇》及《板桥杂记》里所载的。 我们真神往了。我们仿佛亲见那时华灯映水，画舫凌波的光景了。 于是我们的船便成了历史的重载了。我们终于恍然秦淮河的船所以雅丽过于他处，而又有奇异的吸引力的，实在是许多历史的影象使然了。 秦淮河的水是碧阴阴的；看起来厚而不腻，或者是六朝金粉所凝么？ 我们初上船的时候，天色还未断黑，那漾漾的柔波是这样恬静，委婉，使我们一面有水阔天空之想，一面又憧憬着纸醉金迷之境了。 等到灯火明时，阴阴的变为沉沉了：黯淡的水光，像梦一般；那偶然闪烁着的光芒，就是梦的眼睛了。 我们坐在舱前，因了那隆起的顶棚，仿佛总是昂着首向前走着似的；

On an evening in August 1923, I traveled along the Qinhuai River with Pingbo. Pingbo was new to this experience, whereas I had returned once again. We hired a "Qibanzi" (a type of boat), and just as the sun had set and the bright moon began to rise, we disembarked. Thus, the sound of the oars splashed gently—we began to savor the historical essence that swayed with rosy hues along the Qinhuai River. The boats on the Qinhuai River were better than those in Beijing’s Wansheng Garden, the Summer Palace, and even those on West Lake or the Shouxi Lake in Yangzhou. The boats in those places either felt clumsy or were too simple and cramped; they didn’t evoke the same emotional resonance in passengers as the boats on the Qinhuai River did. The boats on the Qinhuai could roughly be divided into two types: large boats and small ones, or what is called "Qibanzi". The large boats had wide openings that could accommodate twenty to thirty people. Inside, they were adorned with paintings and polished redwood furniture, and each table was topped with a cool marble surface. The windows were intricately carved, giving a soft and delicate sensation. The panes were tinted with red and blue glass; they featured exquisite patterns that were quite pleasing to the eye. The "Qibanzi," though smaller in scale than the large boats, with its light blue railings and spacious cabin, still evoked a sense of sentiment. But its most remarkable feature lay at the front of the cabin. The front had a deck with a curved roof supported by sparse railings on either side. Usually, two rattan lounge chairs were placed inside. One could lie down, chat, gaze into the distance, or look around at the riverside houses. The large boats had this feature too, but it felt even more refined on the smaller boat. Underneath the roof at the front, lanterns hung down; the quantity, brightness, and quality of the lights varied, but they consistently delivered an enchanting illumination. These lanterns were truly the most captivating elements. As night fell, lights were lit on both large and small boats. The yellow diffused light radiated through the double glass, creating a hazy mist; through this mist, in the dim water waves, faint ripples of light danced. In this thin haze and gentle ripples, listening to the leisurely and intermittent sounds of the oars, who could not be drawn into a beautiful dream? Only lamenting that there were too many dreams to carry on these boats! At this moment, we were vaguely discussing the glamorous scenes of the Qinhuai River during the late Ming Dynasty, as recorded in works like "The Peony Pavilion" and "Miscellaneous Notes from the Boardwalk". We were truly enraptured. It felt as if we were witnessing the sights of the past, with brilliant lanterns reflecting on the water and painted boats gliding over the waves. Thus, our boat became a heavy vessel of history. We finally realized that the elegance of the Qinhuai River's boats, which surpassed others, was indeed due to the many historical images intertwined with them. The waters of the Qinhuai River were a deep emerald green; they appeared thick yet not cloying—perhaps the essence of gold dust from the Six Dynasties lingered? When we first boarded the boat, the sky had not yet turned fully dark; the gentle, shimmering waves were so calm and tender, sparking thoughts of vastness and fantasies of a world filled with indulgence. By the time the lights lit up, the twilight deepened into darkness: the dim water shimmered as if in a dream; the occasional sparkle of light resembled the eyes of that dream. We sat at the front of the cabin, and because of the raised roof, it felt as if we were always thrusting our heads forward as we moved on.

于是飘飘然如御风而行的我们，看着那些自在的湾泊着的船，船里走马灯般的人物，便像是下界一般，迢迢的远了，又像在雾里看花，尽朦朦胧胧的。 这时我们已过了利涉桥，望见东关头了。沿路听见断续的歌声：有从沿河的妓楼飘来的，有从河上船里度来的。 我们明知那些歌声，只是些因袭的言词，从生涩的歌喉里机械的发出来的；但它们经了夏夜的微风的吹漾和水波的摇拂，袅娜着到我们耳边的时候，已经不单是她们的歌声，而混着微风和河水的密语了。 于是我们不得不被牵惹着，震撼着，相与浮沉于这歌声里了。 从东关头转湾，不久就到大中桥。大中桥共有三个桥拱，都很阔大，俨然是三座门儿；使我们觉得我们的船和船里的我们，在桥下过去时，真是太无颜色了。 桥砖是深褐色，表明它的历史的长久；但都完好无缺，令人叹息于古昔工程的坚美。 桥上两旁都是木壁的房子，中间应该有街路？这些房子都破旧了，多年烟熏的迹，遮没了当年的美丽。 我想像秦淮河的极盛时，在这样宏阔的桥上，特地盖了房子，必然是髹漆得富富丽丽的；晚间必然是灯火通明的，现在却只剩下一片黑沉沉！ 但是桥上造着房子，毕竟使我们多少可以想见往日的繁华；这也慰情聊胜无了。 过了大中桥，便到了灯月交辉，笙歌彻夜的秦淮河，这才是秦淮河的真面目哩。

We floated as if sailing on the wind, watching those boats anchored in the bay; the figures inside resembled flickering lanterns, appearing distant, as if seen through a mist, hazy and indistinct. At this point, we had passed Li She Bridge and sighted the East Gate. Along the way, we heard the intermittent sounds of songs: some floated from the riverside brothels, others drifted over from the boats on the river. We knew that these songs were merely traditional lyrics, mechanically emitted from inexperienced singers' throats; yet when they mingled with the gentle summer breeze and the undulating river waves, swirling toward our ears, they transformed into not just songs, but whispers of the breeze and the river water. Thus, we found ourselves irresistibly drawn in, shaken by the sounds, floating and sinking amidst the melodies. After turning at the East Gate, we soon reached Dazhong Bridge. Dazhong Bridge has three large arches, resembling three grand gates; it made our boat and ourselves within it seem exceptionally colorless as we passed beneath it. The bricks of the bridge were a dark brown, testament to its long history; yet they remained intact and admirable for their ancient craftsmanship. On both sides of the bridge, there were wooden houses; there must have been a street down the middle? These houses were dilapidated, their beauty hidden by years of smoke. I pictured the Qinhuai River in its prime, with these grand bridges adorned with magnificent houses; surely they must have been resplendently lacquered, and in the evenings, ablaze with lights; now, only darkness remained! But the houses built on the bridge still allowed us to imagine the past splendor to some degree; that alone brought some solace to our feelings. After crossing Dazhong Bridge, we finally arrived at the Qinhuai River, where lanterns and the moonlight intertwined and music filled the night—that, indeed, was the true face of the Qinhuai River.