IN past centuries the retribution for ‘lesser’ crimes was often the use of stocks, pillories or ducking stools. These latter devices were a common punishment for immoral, nagging or scolding women and it was not uncommon for the culprit to drown due to an over-enthusiastic operator.

There was a ducking stool in Bristol which seems to have been in constant use from the 16th century until the punishment fell into disrepute: Somewhere under the old castle walls a post was set up in the water of the river Frome and across this post was a transverse beam turning on a swivel with a chair on the end.

Culprits were placed in this chair, then they were turned to the murky waters and let down once, twice, or if particularly unlucky, three times. The last reported use of the Bristol ducking stool was in 1718 when the then Mayor of the city sentenced a particularly obnoxious woman for scolding her husband. On this occasion the Mayor lived to regret his action, for not only did he become the laughing stock of the city but also a lot poorer.

When Edmund Mountjoy was elected Mayor of Bristol it was known that, although he was a good man with a strong sense of civic responsibility, he was hen-pecked by a domineering wife. It was said of him that ‘While he ruled the city, Mistress Mountjoy ruled him’! But there was not much he could do about it; he couldn’t commit his wife to the ducking stool without appearing a fool himself.

One evening, when his wife was in a particularly quarrelsome mood, rather than tolerate her vicious tongue Mountjoy put on his hat and coat and decided to go into town. He felt very despondent and as people acknowledged him by taking off their hats as he passed he reflected that although he was treated with honour and dignity in the streets of Bristol he received no respect whatsoever at home. He was in this rather black mood when he passed a shop in the Hotwells area and a shrill voice caught his ear.

‘You good-for-nothing, faint-hearted wretch,’ it screamed, and at this the door opened and a huge woman pushed her meek-looking husband out into the street. ‘You go and cool your legs in the air until you learn to return more quickly when I send you on an errand.’ And with that she slammed the door.

Mountjoy paused for a moment, feeling sony for the unhappy man. Then suddenly he saw an excellent opportunity for punishing in another his own wife’s weakness. He would teach Mistress Mountjoy a lesson or at least show his power and perhaps gain a little of her respect. ‘Officer,’ he shouted to one who just happened to be passing, ‘Officer, have that woman arrested. I will teach her that a man is master in his own house.’

Now the officer, of course, knew that his Worship the Mayor did not rule the roost at home and could hardly hold back a snigger, but with due deference he acted on orders and in time Mistress Blake, for that was her name, duly appeared before Chief Magistrate Mountjoy.

In court she kept up her tirade by giving the Mayor a ‘piece of her mind’. ‘Who does this man think he is for him to talk of a man being master in his own house when he dare not even sneeze inside his own without asking permission of his wife!’ she roared.

The officers had great difficulty keeping control in the court, as spontaneous laughter burst out all around. ‘Order, order,’ cried Mountjoy, ‘somebody silence that woman - if you can.’ His Worship was now in such a rage that he pronounced the severest sentence for her ‘crime’. ‘To the ducking stool with her. Give her three dips and see if that doesn’t cool her body and quench her tongue.

When Mistress Blake went to the ducking stool in 1718 it was the last time that the people of Bristol would have the opportunity of witnessing the device at work.

A vast crowd assembled. It was the scandal of the year and everyone wanted to see the Mayor’s show of strength against the scolding spitfire. But the woman proved equal to the occasion.

She never cried or called out and calmly submitted herself to her cold baths in the stinking, fetid water of the river Frome. Throughout the punishment the jovial crowd cracked the usual jokes about ‘cold duck’ and ‘soused tongue’. Mistress Blake appeared oblivious to the taunts but as she was being unstrapped from the chair declared that she would have the last laugh at the expense of that
‘hen-pecked craven man, Mountjoy, who only had the stomach to duck another man’s wife.’

Mistress Blake proved as good as her word. As the time came for the end of Edmund Mountjoy’s term of office, she forced her husband to bring about an action of battery on behalf of his wife and to enter a suit for damages against his ex-Worship the Mayor. So the scandal continued and the gossips had a field day.

The Blakes employed a particularly strong prosecutor called Sir Peter King and after the trial at the Guildhall, the jury awarded such high damages to the defendant that no other Chief Magistrate ever dared to put the ducking stool into active use again. Thus it was that the institution fell into decay.

After some time had elapsed one enterprising Bristolian bought the old stool and turned the wood into snuff boxes. It was said that a pinch of snuff from one of these boxes possessed a charm which would protect a man from a scolding, domineering wife forever after!