Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

The outstanding Indian Mutiny medal awarded to Assistant-Surgeon H. M. Greenhow, 1st Oudh Irregular Cavalry, an original Defender recommended for the Victoria Cross for acts of bravery undertaken on the night of the arrival of Havelock's Relieving Force into the Residency; he was the last surviving Surgeon of the Defence of Lucknow

Indian Mutiny 1857-59, 2 clasps, Defence of Lucknow, Lucknow (Asst. Surgn. H. M. Greenhow, 1st Oudh Irreg. Cavy.) good very fine £3,000-£4,000

Buckland Dix & Wood, July 1992, when fitted with an ‘unofficial but contemporary’ clasp for Lucknow; this has now been professionally restored with a genuine clasp.

Greenhow's claim for the Victoria Cross is detailed in the Fort William Military Proceedings( WO 32/7353 - February 1864).
He was first recommended on 27 May 1861, by Major W. T. Johnson, of the 12th Irregular Cavalry, that on the night of 27 September 1857, after the Relieving Force under General Havelock had fought their way into Lucknow, Dr. Greenhow voluntarily left the protection of the Residency, of which he was an original defender, and at great personal risk brought in some 12 to 15 wounded soldiers of the relieving Force. Many wounded men were left outside the Residency who would have died but for the exertions of Greenhow. He zealously persevered in this good work from 10 pm until near daylight, issuing out on 3 or 4 occasions.

The Committee replied “The Board considers this act of devotion well worthy of the decoration but it wants the further conformation of eye-witnesses and should be returned for that purpose to Surgeon Greenhow”.
The recommendation was resubmitted with Brevet Surgeon Bird stating, “that he met Greenhow without the walls of the Residency engaged in bringing in the wounded of the Relieving Force. This was work of great difficulty and danger and I believe that several men and officers owe their lives to the exertions of Mr. Greenhow.”
By December 1860 the large numbers of late claims for the Crimean campaign were exercising minds in Horse Guards as to what to do with the similar numbers being submitted for the Mutiny. The Duke of Cambridge ordered a halt in further Mutiny submissions but then changed his mind as it was recognised that the Indian Service had reasons for complaint. Many were on sick leave so the time was extended with the last awards being gazetted in February 1862. Unfortunately the last awards for the Mutiny did not arrive until December 1863. Lord de Grey as Secretary of State pronounced that no more submissions could be countenanced so Greenhow together with those of Assistant-Surgeon J. Lumsdaine, Bombay Medical Service and Major J. Edmondstoune, 32nd Foot were all refused. Interestingly the last claim for the mutiny was approved and gazetted in 1907 for Lieutenant Everard Aloysius Lisle Phillipps, 11th Bengal N.I. who was killed at Delhi in 1857 (The Evolution of the Victoria Cross by M. J. Crook refers).

Henry Martineau Greenhow was born on 6 September 1829, at Hanover Square, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, into a prominent medical and political family. His father, Thomas Michael Greenhow, was an illustrious medical man, who co-founded Newcastle’s Eye Infirmary and the Newcastle University Medical School, later co-founding Durham University. His sister, Frances Elizabeth, married into the Lupton family and worked tirelessly for women's educational rights. His mother was Elizabeth Martineau, sister of the political and social theorist Harriet Martineau, a devout Unitarian and believer in Mesmerism (Note: Catherine “Kate” Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge, is a direct descendant from Greenhow's mother Elizabeth Martineau). He was educated at Newcastle and University College London; M.R.C.S. 1853; F.R.C.S. Edin. 1859. He was appointed Assistant Surgeon on 20 January 1854; Brevet Surgeon, 5 September 1858; Surgeon, 1 January 1866; Surgeon Major, 1 July 1873; retired 1876. He died at Esher, Surrey, on 26 November 1912.

Surgeon H. M. Greenhow was present and served with the Oudh Irregular Cavalry throughout the Mutinies in Oudh in 1857 and 1858. He was mentioned for his untiring and extreme devotion and for his great skill in the despatches of Brigadier Inglis, Commanding the Garrison at Lucknow and received the thanks of the Government (Despatches London Gazette 16 January 1858; medal with two claps). He was the author of a variety of Medical books including "Notes Medical and Surgical, taken during the late Siege of Lucknow", and several novels including The Bow of Fate, 1893; The Tower of Ghilzean, 1896; Brenda's Experiment, 1896; Amy Vivian's Ring, 1897; The Emperor's Design, 1901; and Leila's Lovers, 1902.

Greenhow was recognised as an excellent surgeon and as such Sir Dermot Daly was keen to recruit him to join the newly raised Oude Irregular Force. Irregular surgeons not only treated the troopers and families of the regiment, they were also charged with the medical and vaccination duties for all residents of the district. For this knowledge he was given command of the Native Hospital during the siege and messed with the Engineers and Artillery. His book “Notes Medical and Surgical, taken during the late Siege of Lucknow” is a fascinating account of the conditions in which he operated. Nowhere was safe from shot or shell and his description of treatments would seem esoteric today. In the case of Cholera he wrote, “Creosote” and water to allay vomiting, I found most useful. Turpentine frictions and garters tied around the legs, relieved cramp. Congee water and dilute sulphuric acid made useful drinks”. He was also called upon to observe and treat no fewer than 40 Europeans and Eurasians. He lists no names but instead gives each case a number from which, together with their injuries and where wounded, it is possible to put names to several cases; i.e. Number 27 on the list is Lieutenant J. H. T. Farquhar, 7th Bengal Light Cavalry, ‘aged 21, wounded at Chinhut – Bullet wound of mouth, breaking jaw. Ball swallowed and after 3 weeks ball passed per anum. Recovered.’ He further enumerates the total garrison which he deduced as being 2,983 men, women, children and natives, a figure accepted today as the most accurate.

Among the many copied letters that accompany the lot is an unpublished 50-page lecture written over 30 years after the siege in which he attempts to bring to a new generation his intimate knowledge of events. From the opening fears of mutiny he relates his acute recollections of the horrors of death, injuries, disease, stench and, above all, flies that shrouded the Residency like a ghastly pall of death. However, parts of his monologue are interspersed with black humour, pathos, tragedy and joy. The following are but a few of his experiences and have been paraphrased:

I was stationed at Secrora, 64 miles from Lucknow, where 6 or 8 European Officers were in charge of 1,500 native troops. All was quiet until the fall of Delhi when the demeanour of the men was visibly felt. Saving the women and children was the first priority but it was only when 50 Sikh Oudh Cavalrymen arrived from Lucknow commanding them to enter the residency that we made any move. Marching at night the anxiety became more intense as the men now took no pains to conceal their mutinous spirit singing blood-thirsty songs awaiting their opportunity to revolt. We halted when one of the Sepoys came up to me and clasping my knee said, “Sir, not one of you will escape to Lucknow; we shall kill you all.” With that he raised his loaded musket to his shoulder and took deliberate aim at the commanding officer's wife sitting on top of an elephant only for a Native Sergeant to take away his weapon saying quietly “Not now. Not now.” My revolver was ready to shoot the man but I did not fire as a shot at that moment would have brought catastrophe to the party...

The enemy surrounding the Residency were, in places, only 6 or 7 yards from the defenders making it impossible to bring our pistols and muskets to bear on them. Flimsy screens were erected to conceal the defenders' movements and were continually replaced when shot away. The mutineers continued performing their regimental duties with the approved words of direction given by the rebel native officers as if they were at Aldershot. During the attacks we could hear the rebels encouraging each other to press on and abusing each other for falling back. Every morning we had the mortification of listening to their bands playing our favourite airs such as “Home Sweet Home”, “Annie Laurie”, “Rule Britannia” and always ending with “God Save the Queen” when an acute melancholy descended over everyone...

By day it was out of the question to snatch a moment’s rest for the plague of flies was upon us and myriads of these animals, which the moment before had been feeding on putrid abominations of all kind, the entrails of dead animals, the sores and filth of the hospitals and not infrequently the bodies of the dead settled on face and hands and produced an irritability which even shot and shell failed to bring about. The flies would hardly allow us to eat the food we had set before us. They settled on it in masses, blackening each mouthful as it was cut and clinging to it in a truly disgusting manner until it reached our lips, nay sometimes not even then relinquishing their hold. The battle for one's food was sickening but at the playful instigation of the inestimable Captain Fulton of the Engineers we would lay a long train of powder down the centre of the mess table mixed with a few crumbs on which a myriad of flies immediately settled and would then explode the whole, thus lessening the evil for a moment at least.

On Havelock fighting his way into the Residency Greenhow wrote:
Never shall I forget the joy, the pain, the greetings of old friends, the mourning of lost ones, the mingled feelings of delight and sorrow, of that night...
And of the Relief Force he added:
Soldiers, who had just passed through a fire that for intensity and deadly effect could hardly be surpassed, and which had caused them a fearful loss, forgot it all in the joy of that moment and gave themselves up to almost childish expressions of their pleasure that they had been in time to effect their grand object.

During his retirement Greenhow turned his hand to literature which was designed to tap into contemporary tastes. By the 1890s the British public had become fascinated with all things Indian Mutiny. He wrote of Anglo-Indian life touching on such taboo subjects as mixed relationships to satisfy this late Victorian demand. At the time Hearth and Home described them as “readable and entertaining” but today their reappraisal leads to them being described as “crude and unpalatable” with the usual Oriental tropes.



Sold with an Illustrated London News image of him taken for the 50th anniversary of the siege, together with much research including many copied letters he wrote and received.