Benjamin west and his cat grimalkin
Benjamin West and His Cat Grimalkin
Product Description
Benjamin West and His Cat Grimalkin
Today Benjamin West is remembered because he was the father of American painting: and many like to think of him as the only American ever to become President of the Royal Academy of England. Benjamin West grew up in a deeply religious Quaker family. Quaker beliefs forbid the use or creation of images or icons in a strict adherence to their view of the second Commandment barring graven images. With the help of his faithful Native American friends—who taught him to create colors from the elements of the earth, and his faithful cat Grimalkin—who willingly sacrificed the hairs of his tail for Ben’s paint brushes, the aspiring artist continued to paint the scenes of his bucolic childhood growing up in the wilds of Pennsylvania.
Marguerite Henry is the beloved author of such classic horse stories as King of the Wind,Misty of Chincoteague, and Stormy, Misty’s Foal, and her work has won several Newbery Awards and Honors.
You can also find Benjamin West and His Cat Grimalkin in Memoria Press’ Fourth Grade Supplemental Reading for American Studies Set. This group of biographies and novels is a perfect way for young students to immerse themselves in the lives and and culture of those who have made history in our America. Furthermore, learn more about the ways that Memoria Press teaches American History within our curriculum right here. Memoria Press features classic history books that taught a whole generation of Americans to love their nation’s history.
Benjamin West and His Cat Grimalkin
We read lots of historical fiction to our children. Most books were good at imparting information, some were rich in explanation, some filled us with inspiration, but only a few captured our imagination. It took a true storyteller to do that. The words “history” and “story” are from the same Latin and Greek root words, so the best history comes wrapped in a story, not canned in a textbook. And Marguerite Henry was one of our family’s favorite storytellers (1902-1997, author of 59 children’s books, most of them about horses).
We are not a cat family, but when you find yourself stuck in a cabin on a hillside in Gatlinburg, TN during an unanticipated snowstorm, with three teens and a seven year-old, you make exceptions. Everyone now remembers a cold afternoon, hot chocolate, and warm blankets to snuggle under on the couch as we read a 1947 story about a 1747 boy, Benjamin West, and his saucy cat Grimalkin.
Even if you know nothing about the man Benjamin West (more on him later), the fictionalized story of this slice of his childhood life draws you in and makes you want to keep reading to learn the fate of this young boy we meet first at seven years-old. Benjamin was the son of devout Quakers in the then-province of Pennsylvania (his maternal grandfather was a counselor to William Penn). Quakers were uncomplicated believers who valued simple living, hard work, and useful skills. And as a good and faithful Quaker, Benjamin’s Papa considered pictures and images to be frivolous, unnecessary, and worldly distractions. And therein, for Ben, was the rub.
Benjamin grew up in the countryside at the Door-Latch Inn run by his parents. There were no pictures, paintings, or images on its walls, and drawing was strictly discouraged in the West house. And yet at seven years-old, despite the visual austerity of his surroundings, Benjamin had an Irresistible urge to begin drawing, and to do so with obvious giftedness. Everything became useful Marguerite Henry (1902–1997) was the beloved author of such classic horse stories as King of the Wind, Misty of Chincoteague, and Stormy, Misty’s Foal, and her work has won several Newbery Awards and Honors. Benjamin West and his Cat Grimalkin .About the Author
Wesley Dennis was best known for his illustrations in collaboration with author Marguerite Henry. They published sixteen books together.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
WELCOME TO DOOR-LATCH INN
Benjamin woke with a jerk. He held his breath, trying to separate the sounds that came floating up from the innyard. Usually he slept through noises. Travelers could lift the latch, help themselves to the snack of food set out for them, warm themselves by the fire, and leave without his so much as hearing them. But tonight there was a small sound that he could not make out.
In a moment everything went quiet. Papa’s hound dogs stopped yapping. The rumble of cart wheels died. It was like the stillness that often comes in the middle of a storm.
Benjamin raised himself up on one elbow. He wished he had ears like a horse so that he could swivel them around to catch the tiniest sound. There! The little noise came again. It was not the trembling cry of a screech owl. It was not the creaking of the inn signboard, or the frightening howl of a wolf. It sounded more like a boy.
In a flash Benjamin’s bare feet were on the stool that acted as a mounting block for his high bed. Soundlessly he dropped to the floor and hurried over to the tiny square window.
He threw open the shutters and poked his head out into the frosty November night.
The courtyard, spread out below him, was washed in moonlight. He could see a man leading two scrawny oxen to the shed. He could make out the figures of a woman and a boy on the seat of the oxcart.
Suddenly the boy bent over something in his lap and let out a dry sob.
Benjamin tore off his nightshirt. His clothes lay heaped on a bench in a white p