Tennyson, with all his genius, never quite emerged from the theologic caves of the conventicle. The sea of pure reason he took to be "the sea of Death." Doubt was a "sunless gulf." He did not know that "Doubt" is a translucent valley, where the light of Truth first reveals the deformities of error--hidden by theological mists. The line containing the words "wilder comrades" was understood to include me. Out of the "One Hundred Contributors," whose names were published in the _Athenæum_ (February 10, 1877), there were only-six:--Professor Huxley, Professor Tyndall, Professor Clifford, George Henry Lewes, myself, and possibly Frederic Harrison, to whom the phrase could apply. If the remaining ninety-four had any insurgency of opinion in them, it was not then apparent to the public, who are prone to prefer a vacuum to an insurgent idea. New ideas of moment have always been on hand in the _Nineteenth_ if not of the "wilder" kind. After issuing fifty volumes of the _Nineteenth Century Review_, the editor published a list of all his contributors, with the titles of the articles written by them, introduced by these brief but memorable words:-- "More than a quarter of a century's experience has sufficiently tested the practical efficacy of the principle upon which the _Nineteenth Century_ was founded, of free public discussion by writers invariably signing their own names. "The success which has attended and continues to attend the faithful adherence to this principle, proves that it is not only right but acceptable, and warrants the hope that it may extend its influence over periodical literature, until unsigned contributions become quite exceptional. "No man can make an anonymous speech with his tongue, and no brave man should desire to make one with his pen, but, having the courage of his opinions, should be ready to face personally all the consequences of all his utterances. Anonymous letters are everywhere justly discredited in private life, and the tone of public life would be raised in proportion to the disappearance of their equivalent--anonymous articles--from public controversy." Than the foregoing, I know of no more admirable argument against anonymity in literature. There is nothing more unfair in controversy than permitting writers, wearing a mask, to attack or make replies to those who give their names--being thereby enabled to be accusative or imputative without responsibility. There is, of course another side to this question. Persons of superior and relevant information, unwilling to appear personally, are thereby excluded from a hearing--which is so far a public loss.