When his brother Henry was leading processions and preaching the People's Charter, Richard enrolled himself as a special constable, cursing the tumults which drew him from business, but determined, if he got the opportunity, to strike a good hard blow in defence of law and order.
Already he was well on the way to possess a solid stake in the country, and the native conservatism of his temperament grew stronger as circumstances bent themselves to his will; a proletarian conquering wealth and influence naturally prizes these things in proportion to the effort their acquisition has cost him.

When he heard of his brother's death, he could in conscience say nothing more than 'Serve him right!' For all that, he paid the funeral expenses of the Chartist--angrily declining an offer from Henry's co-zealots, who would have buried the martyr at their common charges--and proceeded to inquire after the widow and son.

Joseph Mutimer, already one- or two-and-twenty, was in no need of help; he and his mother, naturally prejudiced against the thriving uncle, declared themselves satisfied with their lot, and desired no further connection with a relative who was practically a stranger to them.
So Richard went on his way and heaped up riches.

When already middle-aged he took to himself a wife, his choice being marked with characteristic prudence.

The woman he wedded was turned thirty, had no money, and few personal charms, but was a lady.