Broadmoor Revealed_ Victorian Crime and the Lunatic Asylum - Mark Stevens [48]
This sudden increase in activity was a warning sign for what was to come. As Christmas 1868 approached, two patients were still missing after their escapes, and their loss would have begun to make the Broadmoor hierarchy uncomfortable. At the time, it was obvious to those in charge that they had made the wrong choice back in 1865. After the escapes of Bennett, Douglas and Thompson, Meyer summed up the situation: ‘The Council have long been aware that the cast iron bars and window frames which existed 6 years ago throughout the buildings were most insecure, and the evil has been remedied in Blocks 1 and 6 in which the windows have all been secured with wrought iron bars...there remain however 784 windows not yet secured...Mr Jarvis, the clerk of works, estimates the expense at £1100 and believes that the work might be completed in 2 months’. He asked the Council of Supervision for permission to carry it out immediately. The Council agreed, but the price was a significant sum, and they had to ask the Home Office for the money. It was forthcoming in December 1868.
Inevitably, there would be a period of time before the works could be completed. This delay in rectifying a design fault was about to cause the Asylum what became, in retrospect, its first real embarrassment. Another patient was about to take advantage of the opportunity offered by the defective bars. On Christmas Eve 1868, David McLane became the first Broadmoor patient to escape, and to never be heard from again.
As last time, the escape was from a single room on the first floor of Block 4. To remove his cross bar, McLane used two pieces of metal from old locks, and a piece of wood to steady the pressure. Correctly applied, he had managed to turn the bolt in the window frame; taking additional advantage of the fact that one of the retaining screws in the frame was later found to be faulty. Nobody was sure exactly what route once he was out of the window, but it seems probable that he managed to follow the roof line round the lower level of the admin block, reach the Gatehouse and then drop down outside. McLane had gone to bed at seven o’clock on Christmas Eve, and was not missed until twenty-five to eight on Christmas morning, by which time he was, presumably, long gone. There were no inspection windows in the doors of Block 4 at the time, and as far as the attendants were concerned, all the lunatics were sleeping peacefully on Christmas night.
McLane was a violent offender, a rapist, convicted at Durham in 1863 and sentenced to eight years in jail. Moved from Wakefield Prison to Millbank, he had begun to hear voices in his cell, and also believed that he was under the power of electricity, used upon him by forces unknown. The development of technology is felt in delusions just as much as in the real world, and McLane was an early sufferer from the same electric currents that would affect many other Victorian patients. Despite his delusions, McLane was first placed in the privilege Block 5, where he was well behaved and industrious. It was only when he attacked a fellow patient in 1866 that he was moved to Block 4.
It seems that in the days leading up to his escape, McLane had been the fortunate beneficiary of a lapse in good practice: he had obtained clothing and boots without these being checked out to him properly, and had stored them in his room for when the time came. If the rules had been followed, then McLane would have escaped in only his nightshirt, like Richard Walker before. A half-naked man in the depths of winter may well have given himself up if he had been unable to find clothing outside. A fully clothed lunatic had already gained an important advantage. The Block’s senior member of staff was severely reprimanded for his lack of oversight.
Delusional or not, McLane had evidently well-planned his escape: