She does find it out, however, in good time; and finds out about Mrs. Fitzherbert and her fine house; and does give her Prince some very severe curtain lectures--beginning early in that branch of wifely duty. The Prince takes it in dudgeon; and the dudgeon grows bigger and bigger on both sides (as such things will); finally, a year or more later--after the birth of her daughter, the Princess Charlotte--proposals for separation are passed between them (with a great flourish of diplomacy and golden sticks), and accepted with exceeding cordiality on both sides. Thereafter, the Prince becomes again a man about town--very much about town indeed. Everybody in London knows his great bulk, his fine waistcoats, his horses, his hats and his wonderful bows, which are made with a grace that seems in itself to confer knighthood. For very many years his domestic life,--what little there was of it,--passed without weighty distractions. His Regency when established (1811) was held through a very important period of British history; those great waves of Continental war which ended in Waterloo belonged to it; so did the American war of 1812; so did grave disaffection and discontent at home. He did not quarrel with his cabinets, or impede their action; he learned how to yield, and how to conciliate. Were it only for this, ’tis hardly fair to count him a mere posture-master and a dandy. He loved, too, and always respected his old mother, the Queen of George III.;[44] loved too,--in a way--and more than any other creature in the world except himself, that darling daughter of his, the Princess Charlotte, who at seventeen became the bride of Leopold, afterward King of Belgium,--she surviving the marriage only a year. Her memory is kept alive by the gorgeous marble cenotaph you will see in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor.