On Artists

Deeply entrenched with the idea of beauty are artists, whether painter, sculptor, writer, or composer. There is, perhaps, some broad agreement as to what constitutes an artist, if not what constitutes art itself. But I would wager that, should the question come up on Family Feud, few contestants would respond with cook. This perhaps lends some light into a curious situation in Isak Dinesen’s story Babette’s Feast, published in 1986 by Vintage Books.

In the story, two young women – daughters of a man known as the Dean – are given charge of one Babette, a refugee and exile from France, where Babette had been Communard, fighting against the French aristocracy of the time. The daughter’s names were Martine and Phillipa. Early in the story, Martine is greatly admired for her beauty by then-Lieutenant Lorens Loewenhielm. Shortly there-after, a “great singer Achille Papin of Paris”¹ came by the tiny village in Norway in which the sisters lived. Achille happened to chance into the church on a Sunday in which Phillipa would sing – and she sang very well. Well enough, in fact, for Achille to take her under his tutelage with the intent of taking her to Paris to become a prima donna.

Both loves failed to secure their goal, and a short time later Babette arrives at the sisters’ house with a letter from Achille recommending her to them. In the letter, Achille once again praises Phillipa’s voice, saying: “In Paradise...you will sing...as God meant you to sing. You will be the great artist that God meant you to be. Ah! How you will enchant the angels.”² Then, almost as a post-script, he states: “Babette can cook.”³

As the story progresses, the sisters prepare to celebrate the 100^th anniversary (for he had died long before) of the Dean. Babette, now in their services for 12 years, begs them to let her cook a meal in accordance with her wishes. For 12 years, she had been cooking only what the sisters allowed her; ascetics that they were, it consisted primarily of split cod and ale-and-bread-soup.⁴ Now, to celebrate the Dean, Babette wished to cook as she had in France.

Mortified but what she might concoct (in France, after all, they ate frogs⁵) Martine begs the invited Brothers and Sisters of the Dean’s sect to say nothing about the meal when they came to eat, no matter what Babette might make for them. The Brothers and Sisters duly vow they would “be silent upon all matters of food and drink.”⁶

Then-Lieutenant Lorens Loewenhielm is now General Loewenhielm, and is a well-traveled officer; furthermore, he has returned to Norway in time to come to the celebration dinner. When he arrives and begins to eat, he recognizes the caliber of the food and wine, and is flabbergasted that the other guests eat and drink with barely a murmur out of the ordinary to one another. As it turns out, Babette could cook – and used to do so for the finest restaurant in Paris, the Café Englais.

Which begs the question: why the understatement in the letter by Achille saying, simply, “Babette can cook”? Babette likens herself to Achille; an artist, who seeks to do her utmost in her art, with the line quoting Achille Papin: “Through all the world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist: Give me leave to do my utmost!”⁶ Can we imagine Babette, for twelve years, an artist who crafted the finest of meals for the most expensive of tastes, forced to only cook split cod and ale-and-bread-soup? While in her heart, she cries “Let me do my utmost!”

Martine was appreciated for her external beauty – indeed, both sisters were beautiful; Phillipa was appreciated for her singing. But everyone overlooked food. When taking their vow of silence over the upcoming meal, one Brother said: “On the day of our master we will cleanse our tongues of all tastes and purify them of all delight or disgust...keeping them for the higher things of praise and thanksgiving.”⁷ Could we imagine if Babette had heard such an oath? In the whole sect, the Brothers and Sisters looked forward to the New Jerusalem, and renounced the pleasures of the world.⁸

So what of the artistry of Babette, then, with such vows? While there are many themes in this story, and some stronger than others, this one is certainly made: God has made our senses, and made things to delight our senses; who are we to reject entirely that which he has made to delight us? When we think of beauty, it is possible to elevate it to idol status; in our fallen, imperfect nature, that is possible with anything. But we are still in this world, and as Edwards tells us, God continues to say “Yes!” to the world; are we to disagree and say “No!”? No to the sin in it, certainly; but as Watchman Nee tells us, just because we must walk through the dust of this world does not mean we must lie down and roll in it and cover ourselves with its dirt.⁸ If there is true beauty, that which points back to God, we must praise Him for it with full-throated worship. If we do not, the rocks will.

¹ Dinesen, Isak. Babette’s Feast and Other Anecdotes of Destiny. New York; Vintage Books. 1986. Page 8.

² Ibid., p. 14

³ Ibid.,

⁴ Ibid., p. 16

⁵ Ibid., p. 26

⁶ Ibid., p. 48

⁷ Ibid., p. 27

⁸ Nee, Watchman. Love Not the World. Wheaton, IL; Tyndale. 1978. p. 86