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14
houses in the poor district called Hertford Place, and
No. 1, Brick Street, were suddenly invaded by a flood of
black stinking water. It came roaring up through every
sink, and every water-closet in the basement, and blew
up many of the drains; and in the unfinished mansion,
Hertford House, at the corner of Engine Street, it lifted
the whole of a compact wooden floor in a large room in the
basement. At 102, Piccadilly, a large hole was burst up
in the kitchen passage, and the water rose in an incredibly
short space of time to the height of 5 feet 3 inches, so
that it is quite certain that had the flood happened in the
night, the numerous domestics, who slept in the basement
of this and the adjoining houses, could not have escaped
drowning. As it was, they had to rush for their lives;
and the master of the house was knocked down and lost
his cash-box. Immense quantities of valuable property
were destroyed in the basements of these houses—
servants' bedding and wearing apparel; wine cellars destroyed,
and coals spoiled; and when the water subsided,
which it did in two hours, many things were washed
away. Then the floors were left covered with a thick
black, slippery mud of nauseous odour, which of course
penetrated under floors and skirting boards, and into the
drawers and cupboards; and every house was left in free
communication with the main sewer, out of which the
water had burst. Many details might be ridiculous, such
as the putting out of kitchen fires, and the spoiling of eatables
and of wearing apparel, on a day when they could not be
replaced: but that which might be a trifle to the mansions
of Piccadilly, was serious enough to the poor people in
Hertford Place. At No. 9, the lowest in level, a large
hole was blown up in the floor, and had it been by night,
a whole family must have perished. As it was, they lost