I have spoken earlier in this chapter about the breed of Newfoundland dogs that were intermingled with the St. Bernard, and as they are very similar in appearance I shall proceed to talk of them next.
In the National Gallery in London there is a picture painted by the great animal painter Sir Edwin Landseer, which shows a large Newfoundland dog lying upon a stone pier or quay jutting into the sea. Whereas the St. Bernard has become the guardian angel of travellers lost in the snow, the Newfoundland has devoted himself to the task of rescuing persons from death by drowning. Many are the instances given of his plunging into a running river, or the sea, and saving a child who had fallen in; and Landseer made use of this fact when he painted his picture and called it, "A distinguished member of the Royal Humane Society," after the society formed to rescue persons in danger of drowning. Until that picture was painted it was popularly supposed that the Newfoundland was an entirely black dog, but Landseer's model was a white one with a black head. One of that colour had never been previously seen, and a lot of discussion took place over it, but Landseer's position in the animal and artistic world was so high that since then Newfoundlands similarly marked have been called Landseer Newfoundlands, and are recognised as a different variety.
This breed came originally from the country after which it is named, but there is no record of how long he has been in existence there. He first became known in England at the beginning of the eighteenth century. In his native land the Newfoundland is used as a beast of burden, and is often very cruelly treated. During the winter the chief employment of the inhabitants is the cutting of fuel for the curing of their fish, and these dogs are employed in drawing it from the forests upon sleighs or trucks. One or more yoked together, they go without a guide to the woods where they are to be loaded, and bring back their burden of heavy logs, and return again and again. They are made to undergo incredible labour, and great numbers of them perish every season from the heavy tasks imposed upon them. They feed on the waste fish and garbage, and become so fond of this food that they will readily devour live fishes as they are brought out by the nets. In the summer months, when the fishing season is on, they haunt the seashores, and are so expert in diving and swimming that they can fetch and bring on shore anything which may fall into the water. A traveller in those parts once saw a Newfoundland dog actually catching a fish, and describes it as follows: "The dog sat on a projecting rock watching the water, in which were swimming numerous heavy clumsy-looking fish called sculpins. These have great heads and mouths and many sharp spines upon their backs. As soon as one came within reach and turned broadside on to him, he darted down like a fish-hawk and seldom came up without the fish in his mouth. As he caught them he carried them regularly to a place a few yards off, where he laid them down; and the observer was told that in the summer he would sometimes make a pile of fifty to sixty in a day."
In this half wild state Newfoundlands are very like the Esquimaux dog in appearance. They carry their heads low, and have the same sly expression as a wolf. They also smell so strongly as to be quite unfit to enter a human dwelling. But when kindly treated and attended to, the Newfoundland grows a most beautiful coat of long hair. He has all the dignity and gentleness of the St. Bernard, and will rarely attack human beings unless rendered vicious by confinement. He has not the watchful habits of the Mastiff in guarding our persons or property; but when he is trained to do so, he is very conscientious in the carrying out of his task. He is fond of fetching things for his master, and can easily be taught to go for the marketing or newspapers; but his greatest delight is to dash into the waves and bring back some object cast into them. He seldom quarrels with other dogs, and treats them with dignity and courtesy.
The male Newfoundland should be about twenty-seven inches high at the shoulder, the female twenty-five — slightly less in each case than the St. Bernard. Great importance is attached to general symmetry. The chief difference between the two breeds of dog is in the colour, but the Newfoundland's head is not quite so heavily wrinkled as that of a St. Bernard. The former also stands upon legs slightly shorter in proportion to the length of body, which gives him an appearance of being a longer bodied dog.
There is a story told which well illustrates his generous disposition. A Newfoundland dog was often worried by a number of little noisy dogs when out with his master. He usually treated them with apparent unconcern, but one little cur carried the annoyance so far as to bite the big dog on his hind-leg. This was too much to be patiently endured; he turned round, ran after the offender, and seized him by the skin of his back. In this way he carried him in his mouth to the quay and dropped him into the water. He did not seem, however, to wish to do more than punish the little offender, for after allowing him to remain there until well ducked and in danger of sinking, he plunged in and brought him safe to land.
Another time, when the harbour at Donaghadee was being built, a Newfoundland was at the extreme end of a quay when he met a rival in the shape of a huge Mastiff. Both were powerful dogs, and in the ordinary way good-tempered enough, but this day, through jealousy or some other reason, they began to fight. In the struggle they both fell into the sea, and as the pier was long and steep they had no means of escape but by swimming a considerable distance. The Newfoundland, being an excellent swimmer, speedily reached the shore, but his late enemy, not so much at home in the water, became exhausted and seemed about to sink. The Newfoundland on seeing this plunged in again, grasped the other by the collar, and keeping his head above water brought him safely to land. After that the dogs were always great friends and never fought again, and when the Newfoundland was accidentally killed by being run over by the contractors' train, the Mastiff languished and seemed to miss him.
About fifty years ago there was a very celebrated prize-winner at all the principal dog shows, named Cato. This dog afterwards gained additional fame by a very courageous and clever action. He was staying during the summer months with his owner and mistress at a little seaside place on the Yorkshire coast. Whilst he was out for a walk one morning two ladies who were bathing were observed to be in difficulties. Unfortunately his master was unable to swim, but he courageously dashed into the sea and seized hold of one of them. The huge waves, how- ever, knocked him off his feet, and he also was quickly in danger of drowning, when Cato came to the rescue. He swam out and allowed the man to put one arm over his shoulder whilst he supported the lady with the other, and by this means they were able to keep themselves afloat until rescued by a boat, which had meanwhile picked up the other lady.
On another occasion a boatman, who was the owner of a fine Newfoundland, entered into a swimming race. His dog, evidently thinking his master was in danger, plunged after him, and notwithstanding his struggles dragged him ashore by his hair amidst shrieks of laughter from all onlookers.
Mr. Harrison Weir tells a story of how a Newfoundland came to the help of a little terrier and rescued him from ill-treatment. A gentleman from Scotland on his way to London stayed a short while at an inn at St. Albans, and being afraid of losing his little dog in the busy city he arranged to leave it under the care of the landlord. For several days the little dog was kept chained, but after that he was released and allowed to run at large in the yard wherein there were several others. One of these took the greatest delight in bullying the little fellow, and though he submitted with the greatest patience, his ill-treatment was so persistent that one day he quietly took his departure. After an absence of several days he returned in company with a large Newfoundland dog, made directly for his tyrannical comrade, and assisted by his friend gave him a terrific thrashing, leaving him, in fact, more dead than alive. The Newfoundland then walked off and was seen no more, and the little terrier was after that left in peace. Inquiries were made as to where the Newfoundland had come from, and it afterwards turned out that the terrier had turned up at his old home in Scotland, had been in the company of his friend the Newfoundland, and the two dogs had gone off together; after an absence of several days the larger one had returned, very footsore and nearly starved. He had undoubtedly accompanied his little friend the length of England and then had travelled back alone.
It can be seen from some of these stories that it is quite possible to train a Newfoundland to rescue persons from drowning, and it has often been asked why our authorities do not station some of these dogs at places where accidents of this kind often occur. In France they have done so, and the police train their dogs to jump into the river Seine after dummy figures, so as to keep them always in practice.