CONVERSATIONS WITH KAFKA
171
CuI.
Schildkraut acts Jewish parts in Jewish plays. But since he does
not act exclusively in Jewish for
Jews,
but in German for everyone,
he is not an expressly Jewish actor. He is a borderline case, an in–
termediary, who
gives
people an insight into the intimacy of Jewish
life. He enlarges the horizons of non-Jews, without illuminating the
existence of the
Jews
themselves. This is only done by the poor
Jewish actors who act for
Jews
in Jewish. By their art they sweep
away the deposits of an alien world from the life of the
Jews,
display
in the bright light of day the hidden Jewish face which is sinking
into oblivion, and so
give
them an anchor in the troubles of our
time."
I told him how at the end of the war I had
seen
two perform–
ances by traveling Jewish actors in the little cafe Savoy on the
Geisplatz. Kafka was extremely astonished.
"How did you
come
to
be
there?"
"With my mother. She lived for a long time in Poland."
"And what did you think of the theater?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"I only
remember,
that I hardly understood the language. The
performance was in dialect. But my mother admired the actors."
Kafka looked into the distance.
"I used to know the Jewish actors in the Savoy cafe. That was
about ten years ago. I also had difficulties with the language. Then
I discovered that I understood
more
Yiddish than I had imagined."
"My mother spoke fluent Yiddish," I said proudly. I told him
how as a six-year-old child I had been with my mother in the
Schwarzgasse in the Jewish quarter of PrzemysI. And how from
the ancient houses and the dark little shops men and women ran
out and kissed my mother's hand and the hem of her coat, laughed
and cried and shouted, "Our good lady! Our good lady!" I learned
later that my mother had hidden many Jews in her house during
the pogroms.
Franz Kafka said, when I had finished recounting these
mem–
ones:
"And I should like to run to those poor
Jews
of the ghetto, kiss
the hem of their coats, and say not a word. I should
be
completely
bappy if only they would endure my presence in silence."
"Are
you so lonely?" I asked.
