This was the man known to all the populace of Paris as "Milord Arsouille," which, as all Paris would have told you, was simply the _nom de guerre_ of Lord Seymour. But it was not so. The real "Milord Arsouille" was a certain Charles de la Battut, son of an English chemist and a French _émigrée_. His father, unwilling to compromise his position in England by recognizing him, paid for his adoption by the ruined Breton Count de la Battut. He was educated in Paris, where, even in his youth, he showed a most dissolute character. He delighted to frequent the lowest haunts, and there learnt that mastery of slang and that skill as a boxer which were his pride. The death of his real father gave him a large fortune, which he proceeded to dissipate with the utmost extravagance and bad taste. His house in the Boulevard des Capucines and his personal attire were equally flamboyant. During his short period of glory he was on certain terms of intimacy with the more rowdy among the young bloods of good family, who in after years looked back, like the Duc d'Aulnis, with shame to some of their exploits in his company. His most notable achievement was to introduce the _cancan_ into the fashionable fancy-dress ball at the Variétés in 1832, and his perpetual grief was that all his eccentricities were attributed to Lord Seymour, in spite of his utmost efforts to proclaim the difference of identity. In 1835 he died, a shattered _roué_, at Naples. The only other English name deserving comment in the _petit cercle_ of the Café de Paris is that of Major Fraser, whose personality was an enigma. He was one of the most popular characters on the boulevard, and an honoured friend of the most exclusive diners at the Café Anglais or the Café de Paris, yet nothing was known of his personal history. He spoke English perfectly, but was not an Englishman; he never alluded to his parents, and lived as a bachelor in an _entresol_ at the corner of the Rue Lafitte. He was never short of money, but the source of his income was a mystery; and when he died no letters were found, but only a file of receipts, including a receipt from an undertaker for his funeral expenses, and a direction that his clothes and furniture were to be sold for the benefit of the poor. In spite of the mystery surrounding him he was a prominent figure among the _viveurs_. His tight blue frock-coat and his grey trousers were models for the most fastidious dandies; his kindness and gentleness to everyone except professional politicians was extreme; he quoted Horace freely and had a complete knowledge of political history with a prodigious memory. Major Fraser's story could be paralleled by the head waiter of many a London club. While he lived he was a favourite; when he died he simply vanished.[14]