The Reign of Terror

Dear Gary,

The Reign of Terror—another historical story, and as we learn, this is the Doctor’s favorite period in Earth’s history. What I find impressive, Gary, about these early William Hartnell historical pieces, is that there are no gimmicks. If David Tenant’s Doctor, for example, were to land in the midst of the French Revolution, he would be sure to find some alien force guiding Robespierre.  Not so William Hartnell’s Doctor.  When he lands in the middle of Earth’s history he is immersed in Earth History. He gets caught up in the events around him and tries to disentangle himself; he does not rush into events attempting to heroically put things to rights. If he winds up saving someone or helping some group overcome adversity, it is simply as a byproduct of his attempts to reunite his group and return to the TARDIS.

 “We can’t stem the tide,” the Doctor states, “but at least we can stop being carried away with the flood.” It is the flood of History that sweeps our adventurers up and carries them along as they struggle to reach the safety of the TARDIS, their metaphorical shore. And they do inevitably get swept up, and they usually get separated in the relentless flow, left to follow their own course back to each other and eventually to the TARDIS. “When you entered our hideout you entered our lives,” our adventurers are told. When they landed in Revolutionary France they landed in History.

I love the Doctor in this story, Gary, as he follows his solo path, no sonic screwdriver, only his wits to get himself out of scrapes. He never frets, not even when forced to work in the labor party. Accused of thinking himself clever, the Doctor replies, “Without any undue modesty—yes.” He maintains his supreme sense of confidence, this noble form of arrogance that Hartnell’s Doctor possesses, as he works and schemes with his fellow conscripts to outwit and overpower their oppressor. The Doctor rather gleefully hits his captor over the head with a shovel and then he goes on his merry way, off in search of his wayward companions.

Those wayward companions of his are following their own paths, bobbing and weaving their way through the flood waters, sometimes alone, sometimes with one, sometimes with the other, as they struggle through the raging torrent of history. Barbara finds a moment to reflect on the amusing spectacle they find themselves in. “It’s this feverish activity,” she giggles, “to try and stop something that we know is going to happen.”  The violent reality of history wages around them. They know the grim brutality of everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen. They cannot stop it. “Events will happen just as they are written,” says the Doctor. And yet they plot and scheme and act with the rebels. Not to advance the rebel’s cause, but to keep their own heads above the water’s deadly pull.

“If you stay in France, you are either with us or against us,” they are told. They must choose sides, not because of who is right and who is wrong, not because of who they know is victorious in the end, not to alter history, but because they want to survive. “The only reason I brought you here was to help Susan,” the Doctor declares. “I will help you if you will help me,” he is advised. William Hartnell’s Doctor does not take this lightly. He is prone to sulk when he does not get his own way, as Susan pointed out in our first story. But however reluctantly, he must wade into the course of history in order to save his granddaughter.

It’s a shame, Gary, that two of the episodes from this story are missing, and rather amusing that these two episodes can be summed up in just a few minutes to bridge the gap and set us back into the stream of the tale. The Doctor deflects questions with action, but the action is not to overshadow the characters and their journeys of discovery. Yet another aspect of these early Doctor Who stories that impresses me. Yes, they might be overlong at times, but they take their time in developing characters and themes. “Our lives are important—at least to us,” the Doctor proclaims, “and as we see, so we learn.” Their lives are important to us as well, as their learning is important to us. And how delightful for us that we get to see and learn along with them. And how sad that we have two episodes of seeing and learning lost to us.

The flood is of interest, too. That relentless force pushing its way through time, and the quiet pools forming within its rampant course. There is a quiet, forceful little moment early on in our story when Rouvray, an obviously former aristocrat, steps out to face the rag tag army sent to kill him.  “You’ll listen to me,” he states with authority, and when they do he adds, “You can give them uniforms, lieutenant, but they remain peasants underneath.” With these words he seals his fate, for yes, they remain peasants. Not just the peasants who once heeded his every word, but the peasants who silently resented and seethed and have now roiled up to the surface and roll over him with the rising tidal wave of history.

Why is it, Gary, that looking back is so much more interesting than the living of it? To the peasant firing the shot, the lieutenant giving the orders, and Rouvray commanding attention, the parts they are playing are mere moments in a lifetime with no more meaning than that split second of time. To us, this is a story of spectacle and significance. To us this is History with meaning outside of its own space and time.

Just a few final thoughts as always, Gary. I have to say that Susan is at her most pathetic in The Reign of Terror. From her ‘Eek a mouse’ moment to her refusal to run away from the looming threat of the guillotine because her head and back ache, she whines her way through this story, endangering herself and others.

The Doctor, on the other hand, is superb. He is at his tetchy best in the beginning of our story, taking indignant offense at Ian’s suggestion that he can’t control the TARDIS. “I admit it did develop a fault—a minor fault—on one occasion, perhaps twice, but nothing I couldn’t control.”I’ve already discussed his arrogant confidence in dealing with his enforced labor, but he carries this through to an even higher plane when impersonating an official. Barbara, back in the Aztec story, had a quiet, concentrated confidence when impersonating a god. In this story the Doctor carries off a flowery, haughty confidence in ordering about the jailer. Too bad his scenes with Robespierre are missing.

And in the end our travelers make it back to shore, to the TARDIS, and fly off for more adventures.  “I get the impression they don’t know where they’re heading for,” and indeed they don’t. Despite the Doctor’s protests about the unreliability of the TARDIS, we know that it is just this unreliability that carries them off to the unknown. And as the Doctor says, “Our destiny is in the stars.”

Destiny in the stars, in the time swirl, in the echoes. I send this up and out into that destiny and wait.