[ Yates / Black Sheep ]
Edmund Yates (1831 - 1894) was a Scottish journalist, editor, playwright, and novelist.
Yates' novel Black Sheep (1867) was first published serially in Charles Dickens' weekly literary and cultural magazine Alll the Year Round from August through December 1866. The text below is taken from that serial publication.
The novel (which was also made into a play) concerns a young well-born man, George Dallas, who is rejected by his step-father and, forced to make his own way in the world, falls in with some unsavory company.
The novel contains a Newfoundland belonging to a young woman in whom George has romantic interest. It is interesting to note that Yates' use of a Newfoundland employs two characteristics that are almost cliché by this point in the 19th Century: (1) the Newfoundland is named Caesar; and (2) the dog is first seen while carrying a basket by the handle (the same trick reportedly used by the owners of the Newfoundland which served as the model for the dog in Sir Edwin Landseer's famous A Distinguished Member of the Humane Society.)
Caesar is first encountered by George as he is out for a walk one morning:
"I suppose the land on both sides belongs to Sir Thomas," thought Dallas, and as he made a momentary pause, a large black Newfoundland dog, carrying a basket in his mouth, came down the narrow path, bumped himself against the loosely fastened gate, swung it open, and stopped in the aperture, with a droll air of having done something particularly clever. Dallas looked admiringly at the beautiful creature, who was young, awkward, and supremely happy, and the next instant he heard
a voice speaking from the top of the straight walk.
"Here, Cæsar," it said; "come here, sir; who told you I was going that way?"
Cæsar tossed up his head, somewhat to the detriment of the basket, and lolloped about with his big black legs, but did not retrace his steps, and the next moment Miss Carruthers appeared. A few yards only divided her from George, who stood outside the gate, his face turned full towards her as she came down the path, and who promptly took off his hat. She returned his salutation with embarrassment, but with undisguisable pleasure, and blushed most becomingly.
"I suppose I ought to walk on and leave her; but I won't," said George to himself, in the momentary silence which followed their mutual salutation, and then, in a kind of desperation, he said:
"I am fortunate to meet you again, by a lucky accident, Miss Carruthers. You are out earlier to-day, and this is Cæsar's turn."
He patted the shiny black head of the Newfoundland, who still obstructed the entrance to the path, as he spoke, and Cæsar received the attention tolerably graciously.
....
By this time Cæsar had run out into the road, and was in a state of impatient perplexity, and evidently much inconvenienced by the basket, which he was too well trained to drop, but shook disconsolately as he glanced reproachfully
at Clare, wondering how much longer she meant to keep him waiting.
"No, Miss Carruthers, I was merely walking past the Sycamores, and recalling yesterday's pleasure — half gladly, half sadly, as I fancy we recal all pleasures."
"I — I told my uncle of your visit yesterday, and he said he was sorry to have missed you, and hoped you would see as much of the park as you liked. . . . Oh, that horrid Cæsar, he will have the handle off my basket. Just see how he is knocking it against the stile."
She came hurriedly through the open gateway into the road, George following her.
"May I take it from him?" he said.
"Oh, pray do; there now, he is over the stile, and running through the field."
George rushed away in pursuit of Cæsar, triumphant in his success in thus terminating a period of inaction for which he saw no reasonable excuse. Miss Carruthers mounted the stile in a more leisurely fashion, turned into the footpath which led through the field, and in a few moments met George returning, her basket in his hand, and Cæsar slouching along beside him, sulky and discontented. (XVI: 290-291; 6 October 1866)
The dog is mentioned only once again, when another character sees Miss Caruthers out riding with "a large black Newfoundland dog galloping by her horse's side" (XVI: 464; 24 November 1866).