1600's Disasters
The Great Flood of 1683 (First Section)
The Plague of 1645 (second Section)
The Great Flood of 1683: When Newark Got Absolutely Soaked (and Smashed)
If you think British winters are bad now, spare a thought for the residents of Newark-on-Trent in early 1683. After months of bone-chilling cold, the River Trent decided it had had enough of being frozen and staged a dramatic comeback—by flooding half the county.
This wasn’t your average puddle. This was the Great Flood of 1683, a watery wallop that swept away bridges, drowned fields, and left Newark soggier than a Tudor sponge cake.
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The trouble began with a brutal winter. From September 1682 to February 1683, Nottinghamshire endured a deep freeze so severe that the River Trent iced over completely
Locals reportedly skated on it, which sounds charming until you realise it was the prelude to disaster.
When the thaw finally came in early February, it wasn’t gentle. It was a full-blown meltdown—literally. The sudden rise in temperature caused ice floes to break loose and surge downstream, turning the Trent into a medieval battering ram
The Town Bridge at Newark-on-Trent, a vital crossing point, was no match for the icy onslaught. The floodwaters and ice chunks swept away the bridge, leaving the town cut off and its riverside fields submerged
It was rebuilt by 1700, this time with a wooden deck on surviving stone piers
Meanwhile, nearby villages like Holme and North Muskham also bore the brunt of the flood, with damage reported across the Trent Valley. It was a regional disaster, but one that Newark weathered with its usual grit (and probably a lot of soggy shoes).
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The Great Flood of 1683 didn’t just wash away bridges—it reshaped Newark’s relationship with the River Trent. It prompted stronger infrastructure, better planning, and a healthy respect for the river’s unpredictable moods.
Today, Newark’s bridges are sturdier, its flood defences (somewhat) smarter, and its residents (mostly) dry.
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The Great Flood of 1683 was Newark-on-Trent’s watery wake-up call. It was dramatic, destructive, and—let’s be honest—probably quite cold. But it also showcased the town’s resilience, its ability to rebuild, and its knack for turning even the worst disasters into stories worth telling.
So next time you cross the Trent, give a little nod to the river. And maybe check the weather forecast—just in case.
Picture for illustration purposes only
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Newark and the Plague of 1645 – Newark-on-Trent’s darkest hour
In the mid-17th century, Newark-on-Trent was not just a Royalist stronghold—it was also a town under siege from something far more insidious than cannonballs: plague and pestilence. The year 1645 marked the darkest chapter in Newark’s Civil War saga, when disease swept through the town like an unwelcome guest who refused to leave.
Newark’s strategic importance during the English Civil War made it a prime target for Parliamentarian forces. The town endured three sieges, with the final one in 1646 ending only when King Charles I ordered its surrender.
But before the cannons fell silent, the town was already groaning under the weight of disease According to historian Stuart B. Jennings, Newark in 1645 was described as “a miserable, stinking, infected town” -
ive linked to the book at the bottom
The plague that year claimed an estimated 300 lives, roughly 15% of the population—a staggering toll for a town of around 2,000 souls Between 1642 and 1646, Newark recorded 835 burials, with a surplus of 196 burials over baptisms—a grim indicator of the town’s suffering.
Typhus, known as “camp fever,” was also rampant, especially during the winter months when cramped conditions and poor sanitation turned Newark into a petri dish of despair The plague’s impact wasn’t limited to Newark alone. Nearby villages like Balderton also suffered. In 1646, 129 people were buried in Balderton’s churchyard due to the plague, coinciding with the final siege of Newark The convergence of warfare, overcrowding, and poor hygiene created the perfect storm for disease.
Soldiers, civilians, and livestock were packed into the town’s narrow streets and makeshift shelters. As Lady Fanshawe observed during the siege of Oxford, “sometimes plague, sometimes sicknesses of other kinds, by reason of so many people packed together” Newark’s role as a Royalist garrison meant it was constantly receiving reinforcements, supplies, and refugees—all potential carriers of disease.
The town’s resilience was remarkable, but the cost was high.Today, the story of Newark’s plague years is preserved in places like the National Civil War Centre, which documents the town’s wartime and medical history The phrase “a miserable, stinking, infected town” may sound harsh, but it captures the brutal reality of life in Newark during the plague. Yet, amidst the death and despair, the town endured. Its people rebuilt, its markets reopened, and its history marched on.
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The plague of 1645 was Newark-on-Trent’s darkest hour—but also one of its most defining. It showed the town’s capacity for resilience, even when faced with war, disease, and unimaginable loss. Today, Newark stands not just as a picturesque market town, but as a living monument to survival.
So next time you stroll past the castle ruins or sip coffee in the market square, remember: this town once stared down plague and cannon fire—and lived to tell the tale.
Picture for illustration purpose onlyyou can read the full test here (its not the happiest read) https://www.researchgate.net/.../216182730_'A_Miserable...
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