[ Charlotte Brontë / Jane Eyre ]
Brontë (1816 - 1855) was an English novelist and poet, and a member of one of the most well-known literary families of 19th Century Britain: her sister Emily wrote Wuthering Heights as well as poetry; her sister Ann is best known for her second and final novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, widely regarded as one of the earliest feminist novels; and her brother Branwell was a poet, painter, and translator. The family had a tragic history, thanks in large part to tuberculosis: Branwell died at the age of 31, Ann at the age of 29, Emily at the age of 30, and two other sisters died before their teens. Charlotte made it to 38, dying most likely of complications from her first pregnancy.
This classic novel has what is arguably the most significant Newfoundland presence in a work of fiction not specifically featuring a Newfoundland as a primary character.
Jane Eyre's employer (and, later, husband) Rochester owns a Landseer Newfoundland, which Jane first encounters in an icy lane when Rochester's horse falls. The dog is described as "a lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head" and is referred to, more than once, as a "Gytrash," a mythical dog/beast found in northern English folklore. (The Wikipedia entry on the Gytrash is available here.) The dog's actual name, though, is Pilot, and he is referred to a surprising number of times in the novel.
Here's the first reference to Pilot:
The din was on the causeway: a horse was coming; the windings of the lane yet hid it, but it approached. I was just leaving the stile; yet, as the path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by. In those days I was young, and all sorts of fancies bright and dark tenanted my mind: the memories of nursery stories were there amongst other rubbish; and when they recurred, maturing youth added to them a vigour and vividness beyond what childhood could give. As this horse approached, and as I watched for it to appear through the dusk, I remembered certain of Bessie’s tales, wherein figured a North-of-England spirit called a “Gytrash,” which, in the form of horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came upon belated travellers, as this horse was now coming upon me.
It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to the tramp, tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made him a distinct object against the trees. It was exactly one form of Bessie’s Gytrash — a lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head: it passed me, however, quietly enough; not staying to look up, with strange pretercanine eyes, in my face, as I half expected it would. The horse followed, — a tall steed, and on its back a rider. The man, the human being, broke the spell at once. Nothing ever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone; and goblins, to my notions, though they might tenant the dumb carcasses of beasts, could scarce covet shelter in the commonplace human form. No Gytrash was this, — only a traveller taking the short cut to Millcote. He passed, and I went on; a few steps, and I turned: a sliding sound and an exclamation of "What the deuce is to do now?" and a clattering tumble, arrested my attention. Man and horse were down; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which glazed the causeway. The dog came bounding back, and seeing his master in a predicament, and hearing the horse groan, barked till the evening hills echoed the sound, which was deep in proportion to his magnitude. He snuffed round the prostrate group, and then he ran up to me; it was all he could do, — there was no other help at hand to summon. I obeyed him, and walked down to the traveller, by this time struggling himself free of his steed. His efforts were so vigorous, I
thought he could not be much hurt; but I asked him the question —
"Are you injured, sir?"
I think he was swearing, but am not certain; however, he was pronouncing
some formula which prevented him from replying to me directly.
"Can I do anything?" I asked again.
"You must just stand on one side," he answered as he rose, first to his knees, and then to his feet. I did; whereupon began a heaving, stamping, clattering process, accompanied by a barking and baying which removed me effectually some yards' distance; but I would not be driven quite away till I saw the event. This was finally fortunate; the horse was re-established, and the dog was silenced with a "Down, Pilot!" The traveller now, stooping, felt his foot and leg, as if trying whether they were sound; apparently something ailed them, for he halted to the stile whence I had just risen, and sat down.
The full text of the novel is available (in various formats) here.