Echal, near Lichfield, but obtained only three pupils,—­a Mr Offely, who died early, the celebrated David Garrick, and his brother George.  At the end of a year and a half, disgusted alike with the duties of the office, and with his want of success in their discharge, Johnson left for London, with David Garrick for his companion, and reached it with one letter of introduction from Gilbert Walmsley, three acts of the tragedy of “Irene,” and (according to his fellow-traveller) threepence-halfpenny in his pocket!

To London he had probably looked as to the great mart of genius, but at first he met with mortifying disappointment.  He made one influential friend, however, in an officer named Henry Hervey, of whom he said, “He was a vicious man, but very kind to me; were you to call a dog Hervey, I shall love him.”  In summer he came back to Lichfield, where he stayed three months, and finished his tragedy.  He returned to London in autumn, along with his wife, and tried, but in vain, to get “Irene” presented on the stage.  This did not happen till 1749, when his old pupil David Garrick had become manager of Drury Lane Theatre.

In March 1738, he began to contribute to the Gentleman’s Magazine, a magazine he had long admired, and the original printing-place of which—­St John’s Gate—­he “beheld with reverence” when he first passed it.  Amidst the variety of his contributions, the most remarkable were his “Debates in the Senate of Lilliput”—­vigorous paraphrases of the parliamentary discussions—­of which Johnson finding the mere skeleton given him by the reporters, was at the pains of clothing it with the flesh and blood of his own powerful diction.  In May of the same year appeared his noble imitation of Juvenal, “London,” which at once made him famous.  After it had been rejected by several publishers, it was bought by Dodsley for ten guineas.  It came out the same morning with Pope’s satire, entitled “1738,” and excited a much greater sensation.  The buzzing question ran, “What great unknown genius can this be?” The poem went to a second edition in a week; and Pope himself, who had read it with pleasure, when told that its author was an obscure man named Johnson, replied, “He will soon be deterre.”

Famous as he had now become, he continued poor; and tired to death of slaving for the booksellers, he applied, through the influence of Pope and Lord Gower, to procure a degree from Dublin, that it might aid him in his application for a school at Appleby, in Leicestershire.  In this, however, he failed, and had to persevere for many years more in the ill-paid drudgery of authorship—­meditating a translation of “Father Paul’s History,” which was never executed—­writing in the Gentleman’s Magazine lives of Boeerhaave and Father Paul, &c., &c., &c.—­and published separately “Marmor Norfolciense,” a disguised invective against Sir Robert Walpole, the obnoxious premier of the day.  About this time he became intimate with the notorious