The success of this not very promising system of collaboration astonished the authors and delighted the publisher. The fortune of the _Poetical Magazine_ was made, new editions being called for so rapidly that the old plates were worn out and new ones had to be etched. Dr. Syntax hats, coats, and wigs became fashionable, while the old schoolmaster, his scolding wife and his ancient steed, were among the most popular of public characters. The many inferior imitations to which this success gave rise induced Ackermann to commission sequels from the same collaborators, and these appeared under the titles of _Dr. Syntax in Search of Consolation_ (the hero having lost his wife), _Dr. Syntax in Search of a Wife_, and _Johnny Quæ Genus_, between 1820 and 1823. The popularity of these works was doubtless mainly due to Rowlandson's designs, in which British breadth of humour was combined with French lightness of touch; but Combe's versified account of the adventures of the long-suffering Doctor, though it has lost much of its savour for the present age, seems to have been completely to the taste of his own generation. [Illustration: DR. SYNTAX IN THE GLASS HOUSE] [Illustration: QUÆ GENUS OFFICIATING AT A GAMING HOUSE] WILLIAM COMBE William Combe (1741-1823) was a literary "bravo" of a type that was common enough in the eighteenth century. If he had not the truculence of John Churchill or the coarseness of Peter Pindar, he was little less unscrupulous in his use of the pen. The son of a Bristol merchant, he was educated at Eton and Oxford, and after making the grand tour he was called to the Bar. But "Duke" Combe, as his friends nicknamed him, was too fine a gentleman to work at his profession. He set up an expensive establishment, kept a retinue of servants and several horses, and, thanks to his good looks and attractive manners, obtained an entrance into the most "exclusive circles." At the end of two or three years, having squandered a small fortune left him by his godfather, Combe disappeared from his fashionable haunts, and, if tradition may be believed, underwent strange vicissitudes of fate. He is said to have enlisted as a private, first in the English and afterwards in the French army, and to have figured as a teacher of elocution, a waiter in a restaurant, and a cook at Douai College, where he made such excellent soup that the monks tried to persuade him to join their order. In 1772 he returned to England, and was induced to marry the _chère amie_ of an English nobleman by the promise of a handsome annuity. The annuity not being forthcoming, he wrote a versified satire called _The Diaboliad_ (1776), dedicated to the Worst Man in His Majesty's dominions, who has been variously identified as Lord Irnham and Lord Beauchamp. The satire having a _succès de scandale_, was followed by _The Diablo-lady_, and other lampoons in the same style. Combe now settled down to literary work--of a kind--and produced the spurious _Letters of the late Lord