This forms part of a speculation called the “Catholic Series,”—a title singularly inapplicable to the writings of Mr. Emerson; whose genius, however considerable, is remarkably tinged with those peculiarities of manner and idea which, as much as any doctrinal opinion, essentially constitute the sectarian. Even when true, the thoughts of Emerson are rather distinguished for a quaint shrewdness, and a limitation to a part or section of his subject, than for that justness, breadth, and universality, which in criticism is the counterpart of catholicity in the church. Often, however, his ideas are questionable—their truth is limited, disputable, as much matter of question as the views of a confined body of opinionists. Still oftener they have that sounding vagueness which generally obtains, we think, more among coteries of men who are without any established standards of authority or of taste, and who, unchecked by the example or influence of superiors, acquire a swelling air both of manner and language, rather proportioned to their estimate of themselves than to their true position in relation to the world. We beg to be understood that we are speaking absolutely, not relatively. This mannerism—for to that it comes at last—may be better than the coldness, formality, or dulness of a more universal body; and as great ability may perhaps be displayed, except, of course, in the highest range of the catholic school. All we mean is, that such writers as Carlyle, Hazlitt, and Ralph Waldo Emerson, could not be better described than by reserving the title of the library in which he is now placed.