The Mirrors are the Windows to the Soul

Reflections of the self are a powerful literary motif present in many gothic novels due to their unique ability to reflect what cannot be seen. There are many implications surrounding the ability of reflective devices (such as mirrors, portraits, shadows, photographs) to reflect the invisible, which can be taken advantage of to create anything from an unnerving atmosphere to the main symbol of a horror story. This essay focuses on why this “mirror motif” works so well, using The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde as an example. Reflections are creative tools for authors to use when they want to provide insight into either the true essence of a person or into their soul. In gothic media, reflections reveal upsetting truths, adding a horror effect that can only be achieved through some visible reflection. By reflecting someone in stark contrast to what appears in the physical world, the mirror adds an element of the supernatural. The effectiveness of this motif is informed by numerous myths and beliefs about reflections — specifically mirrors, shadows, and portraits. These myths all support the idea that reflective tools show the deepest truth of a person, which makes unfavorable reflections deeply disturbing. Finally, there are underlying, older myths and religious beliefs which condemn mirrors themselves, resulting in a rich history of reasons why mirrors and other reflective devices fit so neatly into gothic stories.

In The Picture of Dorian Gray , Dorian’s portrait is the mirror. In the beginning of the novel, Basil Hallward paints Dorian’s true self onto the canvas. The ability of a portrait to reflect one’s true self is an old motif. Andrew Christensen’s paper, “On Being One’s Own Heir: British Portraiture, Metaphysical Inheritance, and The Picture of Dorian Gray ,” discusses both the history of portraiture in Britain and the beliefs that developed during the nineteenth century. The increasing popularity of portraiture in British art during the nineteenth century came with many critics, however,

Sydney Drummond

among the people who defended portraiture were those who argued that “the true portrait painter can see ‘into’ his subject and render not what he sees but what he intuits” (Christensen 4). This concept that portraits can show the “true self” gained lots of popularity, so much so that even some of those who sat for portraits felt like they were reflected on a deeper level by their portraits. For example, as highlighted by Christensen, Thomas Hardy states, “I don’t know whether that is how I look or not, but that is how I feel ” (Christensen 4). This idea is very much what the plot of Dorian Gray is centered around. In chapter two of the novel, when Dorian looks at his portrait, he is described as having “recognized himself for the first time” (Wilde chapter 2). He is startled — eyes wide, flushed face. The strength of his emotional response indicates that he is not merely surprised to see how well the painting was made or how accurate the physical likeness is, but that he recognizes something deeper about himself in the portrait. He feels stirrings inside himself while looking at the painting that he’s never felt before. This is a vivid scene where the portrait is established as a true reflection of Dorian, even before any supernatural element is written into the novel. Even Basil, a little further along in the chapter, says, “I shall stay with the real Dorian” (Wilde chapter 2), referring to the portrait. Lord Henry encourages this view of the portrait, so that everybody in the room seems to be experiencing the portrait as something larger than just a portrait; it is very much a true and pure reflection of Dorian.

There is a long history of reflections being supernatural even before the aforementioned beliefs about portraits in Britain came around. “The Bewitched Reflection,” by Carla Gottlieb, is a paper that discusses many examples of reflections in art being supernatural or reflecting things that cannot be seen with the naked eye. Gottlieb points out that reflections themselves in many cultures were viewed as inherently supernatural and could be used for a range of things: “from seeing oneself to voodoo” (Gottlieb 1). She points out that part of the supernatural aspect of mirrors is that “a mirror lies if it mirrors falsely” (Gottlieb 1). This idea has merit when combined with the ideas from Christensen’s article. Gottlieb argues that when mirrors reflect falsely, or lie, they become magical, and therefore, unnerving. This is partially true. When Dorian’s portrait starts to change, it is no longer reflecting what was painted with stunning realism by Basil. The portrait was originally a very good likeness of Dorian, so in that sense it was reflecting reality. But when the mirror starts to reflect a Dorian that nobody else can see — a Dorian that is not, in a strict sense, realistic — then it becomes magical. And the more it changes for the worse, the more horrible the emotional effect: the further away from reality (the way Dorian actually looks in the physical world), the more unnerving. However, I would argue that it is the way that the portrait reflects something truer than what Dorian physically looks like that makes it really disturbing. Both aspects — a reflection’s ability to reflect reality and unreality — have to be simultaneously considered. In the words of Willard McCarty, the author of “The Shape of the Mirror: Metaphorical Catoptrics in Classical Literatúre,” the act of “mirroring both identifies and separates” (McCarty 2). Dorian’s portrait separates by removing his soul and misdeeds from his physical body. It identifies by putting on display Dorian’s true self, soul and misdeeds visible and almost tangible. If Dorian’s portrait were deforming at random, unrelated to the development of the character, it would still be a mirror reflecting falsely, and it may still be magical. However, the key for the portrait’s role in the story is that it is reflecting a truer reality than the one that can be seen.

The soul can not be seen with the naked eye. “‘He Make in the Mirror No Reflect’: Undead Aesthetics and Mechanical Reproduction – Dorian Gray, Dracula and David Reed’s ‘Vampire Painting,’” a paper written by Sam George, focuses on the ability of mirrors, shadows, and other reflective devices to reflect the soul. He primarily discusses Dracula by Bram Stoker, but nonetheless this discussion can be applied to Dorian’s portrait. George points out that “[i]n many cultures the shadow and the mirror image are both unmistakably associated with the soul” (George 3). Based on long-standing associations, Dorian’s portrait being a mirror image automatically means his portrait contains his soul. The true self and the soul are interconnected in historical superstitions and beliefs to the point where one may consider them one and the same in certain contexts, such as the case of Dorian’s portrait. In his own discussion of the symbolism of mirrors, McCarty writes, “[a]s von Vacano points out, the reflected image, like the shadow, qualifies perfectly as a form of the soul, having ‘all the attributes of the body except the crucial one of tangibility’” (McCarty 9). The intangibility of a reflection may be a source of the uncanny feeling mirrors conjure up, which is a likely contributor to most of the myths surrounding them. Neither the soul nor the true self can be seen unless through some medium of reflection, unlike the actual body. George argues that, in Bram Stoker’s Dracula , the vampire can not be imaged because it has no soul. Stoker’s notes for Dracula , according to George, include that Dracula cannot be seen in a mirror, casts no shadow, cannot be painted, and cannot be photographed (George 4). All forms of imaging, and therefore all forms of capturing or displaying the soul, seem not to work if the being is soulless. Being unreflected in a mirror, for a vampire, gives it the dangerous quality of soullessness, but from a broader perspective, the idea that a reflection will not reflect something soulless only supports the idea that images are an important tool for reflecting the soul. The true self and the soul are both often described as being “deep inside’’ someone — in order for the truth of someone to be visualized, magic or imagination is a required tool. His portrait is a reflection of something nobody can see, which makes it magical, and also contains his soul, which is inherently supernatural. These nuances are what fully push Dorian’s eventually gory portrait into the horror category. The horror in the portrait, without the implication of it being what is true, would be much less effective at creating the atmosphere of horror so valuable in Gothic novels.

It is in this way that Dorian’s portrait first creates a slightly supernatural atmosphere. It is important to note that even before Dorian’s portrait becomes grotesque, the fact that it seems to be alive and has a soul already creates an unease informed by history. The very idea of a portrait containing one’s true self and one’s soul can be disturbing by itself, but once that is established, more can be explored. Many cultures believe that not only do mirrors and shadows reflect the soul, but they also capture it. Historically, the general superstitions that arose around images and shadows capturing and holding one’s soul were, according to Christensen, “attested in several parts of Europe, including England, Scotland, Germany, Belgium, and Greece” (Christensen 4). These beliefs often included the notion that when the soul is captured by an image, the subject may become ill or die (Christensen 4). This idea, influencing what people have known about the reflection for years, means there was already a sense of unease around images of people, regardless of whether or not they were explicitly supernatural. This unease influences the reading (and perhaps the writing) of The Picture Of Dorian Gray . The moment Dorian’s portrait is finished, he declares he “would give everything,” for the portrait to age instead of him: “I would give my soul for that!” (Wilde chapter 2). Dorian also infuses the portrait with his soul. This enchantment, of sorts, is complex. Giving the portrait his soul is both the price and the reward. Once the portrait becomes him, two things start happening simultaneously. The moment he has given his soul away to the portrait, Dorian begins his descent into corruption — a sort of illness. He, over the course of the book, becomes cruel and hedonistic — he treats selfishly Sybil Vane, feels no guilt when she dies, collects expensive things, becomes addicted to opium, and eventually commits a murder and descends into paranoia. At the same time, the portrait changes, in a sense becoming ill itself. Since Dorian’s illness cannot be seen on his own face, it must be displayed on his soul. Once his soul is captured in paint, it begins rotting away. Dorian blames Basil for his own corruption because he believes the portrait of his soul has ruined him. When Dorian takes Basil up to view the transformation of his own picture, the imagery is powerfully supportive of the idea that the captured soul sickens one. To Basil, referring to his painting, Dorian says, “It has destroyed me,” and “It is the face of my soul.” The portrait is then described as though “the leprosies of sin were slowly eating the thing away. The rotting corpse in a watery grave was not so fearful” (Wilde chapter 13). Connecting the appearance of Dorian’s soul with that of a rotting corpse is a powerful example of how pervasive the superstitions of imaging are in the novel. Illness is one way to view Dorian’s corruption. George also argues that Dorian may be viewed as becoming vampiric; with his soul captured in his portrait, and no longer in his body, he consumes life from others, like Sibyl Vane. Adding another idea to the many potential implications, Gottlieb mentions a few more myths: “to lose one’s shadow is like losing your soul,” and “to encounter your shadow — that is, yourself or your double — signals death” (Gottlieb 5). Equating shadows with other forms of the double, one might say that Dorian both loses and encounters his shadow. His self is stolen from him and put into the portrait, and viewing his portrait is sometimes described very much like a confrontation: “His own soul was looking out at him and calling him to jugement” (Wilde chapter 10). Dorian facing a premature death at the end of the book, due to his corruption and his murdering of his own soul-portrait, is the final stamp on the general message — a reflection, which may be a bad omen, can reveal or capture one’s soul, resulting in illness, moral corruption, soullessness, and death.

Another source of uneasiness about mirrors that very likely contributes to modern readings of gothic literature are the lingering religious and moral beliefs of the past. Old religious beliefs punished the imaging of sacred figures. Additionally, gazing into the mirror was often viewed as vain (morally wrong), or as women sexualizing themselves (which was also considered morally wrong).

According to Christensen, “[numerous] prohibitions against the creation of idols and images (of any kind) can be found in the Old Testament, including the Ten Commandments” (Christensen 4). This may contribute to a very broad belief that anything that captures an image is inherently bad, and that people may be immoral for using things like mirrors and may be punished for creating paintings. Additionally, in “All the Reflected Light We Cannot See: (Ghastly) Mirror Imagery in Victorian Fiction,” Leila Silvana May discusses the problematic belief that women who looked into mirrors were vain, stating that “early in Christian history, this accusation of vanitas entailed a condemnation to Hell” (May 9). Parallels from this myth can be drawn to Dorian Gray . In addition to the previously discussed implications of Dorian’s portrait, the reading by the audience may also be informed by the belief that vanity is a sin or a moral failing. Dorian Gray is very much a story of a young man destroying himself through his own vanity. Whether or not the audience truly believes vanity is a moral failing, it is clear that the novel draws upon this deep-rooted belief to punish Dorian. When Dorian is confronted by the ugliness and cruelty of his portrait, he expresses the transient but important desire for self-reform. This property of mirrors is also discussed by McCarty, who points out that “it is good for an angry man to see himself in the mirror … because it brings him up against an unsuspected, inner reality” (McCarty 13). He paraphrases Seneca when he states that perhaps if the soul were visible, its ugliness would bewilder us. This property of mirrors can be translated to Dorian’s portrait. Dorian’s vanity makes him ugly, and his portrait, allowing his soul to become visible, puts this ugliness on display in an attempt to admonish him. Dorian’s response is guilt and a desperation to hide the portrait away. This brings the reader back around to the broader idea: a mirror reflects the truth. And when this truth is ugly, the mirror becomes a gothic motif. Showing an unfavorable reflection is deeply disturbing because of all the implications — an unfavorable self or an ugly soul being the key factor.

Beliefs that images reflect the soul and true self, or capture the soul, resulting in illness, death, or corruption, and maybe even vampirism, all likely inform the reading of The Picture of Dorian Gray and enhance its gothic nature. The belief that an image, especially a portrait, can reflect the true self, has its grounds in British art history. It means that a grotesque painting reflects the real, but invisible, grotesqueness of the subject. Then there are subtler notes that may be involved as well, considering a religious background. Does an ugly reflection reflect the final picture? Can it be reversed? Will the mirror condemn the subject to hell?

Dracula and David Reed’s ‘Vampire Painting.’” Open Graves, Open Minds: Representations of Vampires and the Undead from the Enlightenment to the Present Day , Manchester University Press, 2013, pp. 56–78. EBSCOhost , search-ebscohost-com.libproxy.unm.edu/ login.aspx?direct=true&db=mzh&AN=202017682237&s ite=eds-live&scope=site.

Gottlieb, Carla. “The Bewitched Reflection.” Notes in the History of Art, vol. 4, no. 2/3, [Ars Brevis Foundation Inc., University of Chicago Press], 1985, pp. 59–67. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/23202428.

May, Leila Silvana. “All the Reflected Light We Cannot See: (Ghastly) Mirror Imagery in Victorian Fiction.” Pacific Coast Philology , vol. 54, no. 2, July 2019, pp. 273–97. EBSCOhost , search-ebscohost-com.libproxy.unm.edu/ login.aspx?direct=true&db=edb&AN=143490821&site= eds-live&scope=site.

McCarty, Willard. “The Shape of the Mirror: Metaphorical Catoptrics in Classical Literatúre.” Arethusa, vol. 22, no. 2, 1989, pp. 161-95. ProQuest , www.proquest.com/scholarlyjournals/shape-mirror-metaphorical-catoptricsclassical/docview/1307022456/se-2?accountid=14613.

Wilde, Oscar. The Picture of Dorian Gray . ebook ed., AmazonClassics, 2017.

Works Cited

Christensen, Andrew G. “On Being One’s Own Heir: British Portraiture, Metaphysical Inheritance, and The Picture of Dorian Gray .” Word & Image, vol. 35 no. 2, 2019, pp. 159-171, UNM Library , doi-org.libproxy.unm.edu/10.1080/ 02666286.2018.1553407.

George, Sam. “‘‘He Make in the Mirror No Reflect’: Undead Aesthetics and Mechanical Reproduction – Dorian Gray,