I realize what a burden of credulity this places on the matter. I'm not a historian, though I do have a college Bachelors degree in English, and do appreciate real scholarship.

Several years into the sleuthing on my Cannings, I received an email from a writer/researcher asking me if I thought it possible that George P. Canning did not actually die at sea, but rather was let ashore sometime before the Shenandoah reached Liverpool, so that he might die with his family? I thought this a very improbable idea, based on the very points you mention, and told him so. But the question stayed with me after that. Then a few years ago, the letter was given to me, written by Gustave Perrot in 1930 to his first cousin, my great grandfather George Canning of Cleveland ("George of Cleveland"). I've put it up online. I think George of Cleveland must have asked Gustave to describe what he could remember of his uncles and family in France; Louise Canning, Gustave's mother, had been raised by Mme. Lannes or through her sponsorship, and was close to the Court of Napoleon III, and some history of the individuals in the family should be preserved, George of Cleveland must've realized.

The page of Gustave's letter (retyped by George of Cleveland) that describes "Uncle Boatriune" is at
http://www.lionsgrip.com/gustavepierrotfamhist2enhopt.jpg The webpage that links to all 3 pages of Gustave's letter and some other letters is at http://www.lionsgrip.com/family2005.html If you have any questions, I'll try to answer them. In this letter of 1930, Uncle Boatriune was described, long before the family had any knowledge of the CSS Shenandoah. Gustave writes...

"I still know Uncle Boatriune better than the others. I [know?] he had been educated by my mother [Louise Perrot nee Canning] and was doing very well when all of a sudden, he got into his head of going to the United States, where unfortunately he got on the wrong side of the Civil War, that is the Confederate, and received there a bullet in his breast. He came back to my mother, languished at Nanterre where we lived then, and finally died in 1866 after 18 months of suffering. He had returned with a female companion by whom he got two children, Alfred and Rafton, whom we used to call Little Ton. After my uncle's death, his wife, who we called Aunt Margaret, and who was an Australian and lady-companion always either at Sydney or in New York or elsewhere, could not keep the children and placed them with a Miss Butler in Paris but was obliged through penury to take them out and then placed Alfred, at my mother's who also kept regularly and later on "Little Ton." She (Margaret) died of small pox in Paris during the seige. I remember Uncle Boatriune as being a shapely sort of fellow, unusually well groomed, and standing erect in his boots. He was evidently the better shaped of the whole family. At least, he was taller than your father [Rafton], who to my knowledge, was a short and portly man. So much, thus far, as to my uncles."

This part seems fairly lucid. But Gustave's description of his grandfather on the previous page, whom he probably never saw, is a pure jumble. The dates are wrong in many cases. The name is questionable -- we know his name was Alfred Canning, from several documents. As is so often the case in genealogy, two generations can be melded, in the hearsay memory of a long-surviving descendant, into one entity that has characteristics of both of them. This seems to have perhaps been the case with Gustave's tale about his grandfather.

I take Gustave's description of Uncle Boatriune at face value, all in all. I might not have done so, if the author/researcher had not asked me about that very possibility (of Botrine not dying at sea, but being let ashore) years before I found Gustave's letter. I think it should not now be surprising, in light of the current revelations on the Internet, that official journalistic records may be drastically doctored up for public consumption and historical enshrinement.

If any question remains on this, it is quite sure that George P. Canning was indeed our "Boatriune" (born Baltriune, in Seven Islands, Rotherhithe). You probably have read that when they reached Liverpool, the officers of the Shenandoah published a call for any relatives of the mysterious George P. Canning, and a reply came from a Rafton Canning, a beer and spirits merchant in London. This was my great great grandfather, without doubt.

K