The work was described as The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque. A Poem. With new plates.
The old subjects, it appears, were re-engraved by Rowlandson's hand, with but slight variations from the originals. The outlines are somewhat less bold, and three new subjects are added; one being the frontispiece, which represents the worthy Doctor at his desk, seated in his armchair, in deep cogitation, touching his forehead as the idea of his famous Picturesque Tour suggests itself to his brain. The window of his study is opened, that he may contemplate the exterior prospect at his ease, while a sketch, by his own hand, in India-ink, is displayed before him. Various papers and books are scattered about, with sundry objects which indicate his versatile accomplishments—a fiddle hung on the wall, books of travel, sheets of the Doctor's original treatise—Every Man his own Farrier—with a goodly jar of cherry bounce to rejoice the learned man's spirits.
On the titlepage is engraved a quaint vignette of architectural relics, ruins, a castle, &c., the detached monuments being disposed so as to form the word Picturesque.
The third addition is plate 27, in the body of the Tour, introducing The Doctor's Dream (in his patron's library) of the Battle of the Books, which was not included in the work on its original publication.
This edition is preceded by an Introduction, which in some degree explains the relative positions—as far as the preparation of the work was concerned—of the artist and William Combe, the author, who thus sets the matter before his public: 'The following poem, if it may be allowed to deserve the name, was written under circumstances whose peculiarity may be thought to justify a communication of them. I undertook to give metrical illustrations of the prints with which Mr. Ackermann decorated the Poetical Magazine, a work published by him in monthly numbers, for the reception of original compositions. Many of these engravings were miscellaneous, and those (which were, indeed, the far greater part of them) whose description was submitted to such a muse as mine represented views of interesting objects and beautiful scenery, or were occasional decorations appropriate to the work. Those designs, to which this volume is so greatly indebted, I was informed, would follow in a series, and it was proposed to me to shape out a story from them. An etching, or a drawing, was accordingly sent to me every month, and I composed a certain proportion of verse, in which, of course, the subject of the design was included; the rest depended on what my imagination could furnish. When the first print was sent to me I did not know what would be the subject of the second; and in this manner, in a great measure, the artist continued designing, and I continued writing, every month for two years, till a work containing near ten thousand lines was produced; the artist and the writer having no personal communication with or knowledge of each other....
'Mr. Ackermann has his reasons for risking a republication of it in its present form; and I now feel more than common solicitude that it should answer his expectations.... The Battle of the Books was an after-thought, and forms the novelty of this volume.
Liberius si
Dixero quid, si forte jocosius; hoc mihi juris,
Cum veniâ dabis.—Hor. S. lib. i. v. 103.
'I have only to add, that though, on a first view of some of the prints, it may appear as if the clerical character were treated with levity, I am confident in announcing a very opposite impression from a perusal of the work.'
The origin of Doctor Syntax is ascribed, with characteristic partiality, to John Bannister, the comedian, by his biographer, John Adolphus.
'Of another graphic series, which owed its existence almost entirely to the invention of Bannister, I have the following account:—Dining at a tavern, with him and a third person, Rowlandson was asked, "What are you about, Rolly?" "Why, nothing in particular," he said. "I think my inventive faculty has been very sluggish of late; I wish one of you would give me a hint." Being asked of what kind, he answered, "I feel in a humour to sketch a series where the object may be made ridiculous without much thinking. I have been making a tour in Cornwall and Devonshire with a friend, who, as I have made sketches on the coast for him, wishes me to introduce adventures at inns, and other comic incidents, in which he was the principal party. But what can I do for such a hero?—a walking turtle—a gentleman weighing four-and-twenty stone—for such scenes he is quite out of the question. I want one of a totally different description." And he named a celebrated tourist, who by a recent publication had given much celebrity to the Lakes.