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Lord Henry Wotton, the "brilliant, fantastic, irresponsible" aristocrat in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, is often dismissed as an amoral antagonist, yet he is doubtless the most beloved of the players in the novel. A wealthy Oxford graduate, Lord Henry has no profession to speak of, no clear value system, and no apparent personal goal other than blithely frequenting the London social scene. Wilde, a leader of the movement of "art for art’s sake" in England, makes the seemingly vapid character irresistible by bestowing on him the writer’s own gifts of dialogue, making Henry his aesthetic evangelist and social critic. Henry attracts people with his wit and joie de vivre in a Victorian era that seems dull and confining by contrast, and encourages old friends and new acquaintances alike to pursue their passions, enjoy their lives and consider boredom their worst enemy.

As a playwright telling a story, Wilde establishes Lord Henry’s personality through his dialogue rather than through any physical description or even character analysis. Lord Henry delivers whole pages of uninterrupted monologues through which he remains engaging and likeable. Though Basil and Dorian are also elegant speakers, Henry is the most provocative and captivating. Just as "there was something in [Dorian’s] face that made one trust him at once," Lord Henry had a "beautiful voice" that "charmed his listeners out of themselves." Henry’s oratory overwhelms Dorian when Dorian first meets him and thinks, "Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words!" While Henry’s ideas are sinful and avant garde, thus holding an illicit appeal, his true talent is in the wording of his arguments. He is an etymological gymnast, turning words into dances with little effort, thrilling characters and readers alike with his performances.

Lord Henry is an aesthete who feasts on art, drinks in opera, and snacks on plays, constantly feeding his intellect. Comparing the relative merits of "Beauty" and "Genius" is one of Henry’s favorite topics, and he shamelessly contradicts himself depending upon whom he is trying to flatter. To appeal to Basil Hallward, a gifted artist who is painting the beautiful Dorian Gray, he says, "Genius lasts longer than Beauty." Though Basil dismisses some of Henry’s theories as frivolous, he still enjoys Henry’s company. Henry then assures the stunning Dorian that "Beauty is a form of Genius – is higher, indeed, than Genius, as it needs no explanation." Younger and more impressionable than Basil, Dorian soaks Henry’s words into his soul the way Henry breathes opium smoke into his lungs. By telling Basil, the wiser one, that Genius outlasts Beauty, and Dorian, the pulchritudinous youth, that Beauty is a higher form of Genius, he successfully appeals to the vanity of each.

Henry also appeals to his circle of aristocratic friends by encouraging them to reject the constraints of the Victorian era for more self-indulgent pleasures. He explains to Dorian, "the costume of the nineteenth century is detestable. It is so somber, so depressing. Sin is the only real colour-element left in modern life," and advises him, "the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." Lord Henry’s hedonistic philosophy intoxicates Dorian, who grows close to him and often quotes him as the novel progresses. Instructions to pursue pleasure appeal to everyone, ranging from the young Dorian to an elder Duchess, who asks Henry how she can be young again. Henry responds, "commit [great errors you committed in your youth] over again. To get back to one’s youth, one merely has to repeat one’s follies." "A delightful theory!" the Duchess cries, made giddy by the idea. Delighted himself at others’ pleasure in contemplating his morally queasy philosophies, Lord Henry avoids a life of ennui himself by implanting controversial ideas in others.

Advising friends to forget their worries and indulge themselves, Henry encourages people to enjoy the present. Henry himself is part of that ephemeral satisfaction, for both readers and characters. At one point, he requests that Basil smoke, telling him, "a cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure." He might as well be talking about himself when he adds, "it is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?"