John Peter Labouchere,[1] the younger son of Pierre-César Labouchère, was a partner in the firm of Hope at Amsterdam, and, later, a partner in the bank of Williams, Deacon, Thornton, and Labouchere. He married Mary Louisa Du Pre,[2] second daughter of Mr. James Du Pre of Wilton Park in Buckinghamshire, and granddaughter of Sir William Maxwell of Monteith, by whom he had a family of three sons and six daughters, of whom one son and four daughters are still living. He was the owner of Broome Hall in Surrey, and his town house was at 16 Portland Place. He was an extremely religious man and well known for his charitable and philanthropic labours. At one period his elder brother, Lord Taunton, then Mr. Henry Labouchere, also had a house in Portland Place, and he used to relate that he was constantly pestered by persons confusing him with his brother the banker, who called to ask for his help and patronage with regard to various evangelical enterprises. It was his habit to reply to them: "You have made a mistake, sir; the good Mr. Labouchere lives at No. 16." Henry Du Pre, the eldest son of John Labouchere, was born at 16 Portland Place on November 9, 1831. His {17} education, had he been a docile pupil, would, according to his father's wishes, have been that of a conventional English boy with some reasonable expectations of a fine career in the financial or the diplomatic world, into either of which he had an easy _entrée_ through the influence of the Labouchere family. But he displayed, at the very beginning of his career, a curious and original character, which did not seem to follow easily any of the known paths of learning marked out for the youth of his period. The earliest repartee recorded of him was made to the headmaster of the private school to which he was sent at the age of six. Before breakfast, the morning after his arrival, the new boys were placed in a row, and asked whether they had all washed their teeth. One by one they answered in the affirmative, until came the turn of Henry. "No," he answered firmly. "And pray why not?" wound up the master indignantly, after a long lecture on the enormity of the crime of neglecting the cleanliness of the teeth. "Because I haven't got any," smiled Henry suddenly. He was just at the stage of changing his baby teeth, and his toothless gums were displayed for the full benefit of the discomfited moralist.[3] Nearly fifty years later Labouchere published the following account of his school-days: