No one enjoyed this wedding more than Mrs Dorothea Bingley. A sixteen years courtship corresponded entirely with her ideas of the right and fitness of things. She harangued her niece and Lady Eliza on this subject, telling them that Lady Darnley is the only woman she knows in this degenerate age, that has acted up to the propriety of the ancients--that she respected the sublimity of her ideas. She was very desirous of her niece's marrying a Mr Bennet, because he made love in heroics, was inebriated in his science, and thought all the world considered him as a Phoenix of wit. Miss Bingley would often reason with her aunt on this subject? 'Of what use in the world (said she) is an erudition so savage, and so full of presumption?' One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed, Does all desert in sciences exceed.' SHEFFIELD But Mrs Dorothea always insisted that he was a classical scholar, and a fine gentleman! The niece declared he was a Pagan, and ought to have lived two centuries ago, as he spoke a language she did not understand! 'He may be learned (said she) but he has no passion!' 'No passion (replied Mrs Dorothea) how comes he then to write such fine letters?' 'The fine letters (replied Miss Bingley) show memory and fancy, but no sensations of _the heart_! lovers who make use of extravagant tropes are reduced to that expedient, to supply the defect of passion by the deceitful counterfeit of hyperbolical language. The passions of _the heart_ depend not on the deductions of _the understanding_--but it was necessary he should have a _Corinna_, because Ovid had _one_; and he makes me inconstant, although I never gave him any encouragement, because Gallus's favourite run away with a soldier. He seems to be intimately acquainted with the history of Cupid and Venus, but knows nothing _of love_: and would be sooner applauded for writing a good elegy, than have his mistress smile on him.' Mrs Dorothea told her, that she was exceedingly perverse, but she would give her leave _to talk_, as she had the power _to do_. Miss Bingley said, 'Since Mr Bennet was so much in her good graces, she made no doubt but he would pay her his homage, on the smallest hint, would transfer his affections--as the foundation of his passion was _the same_ for _both_, built on that of her _mansion_, would _grow_ with her _trees_ and _increase_ with her _estate_----Increase, you know, my dear aunt, is the end of marriage; and your fortune is better than Medea's charm, for that only made an old man young again; but your riches will make a young man enamoured of an old woman! He will swear you are not only wiser than Minerva, but fairer than the Paphian queen! Though you are old, your trees are green; and though you have lost the roses in your cheeks, there are great plenty of them on your pleasure-grounds.'