Lord Henry begins his seduction of Dorian’s mind with these words in Chapter Two. Lord Henry advocates a return to the “Hellenic ideal,” to the sensibilities of ancient Greece where the appreciation of beauty reigned. He strikes a contrast between those glory days and the present mode of living, which, he believes, is marked by a morality that demands self-denial. The outcome of denial, he goes on to say, is only a stronger desire for that which has been denied. This passage is a bold challenge to conventional and restrictive Victorian morality; it dismisses the notion of sin as a figment of the imagination. Interestingly, if sin is relegated to the mind, as Lord Henry would have it, then it should follow that the body is free from the effects of sin. According to this line of thinking, Dorian’s tragedy, then, is that he is unable to purge his “monstrous and unlawful” acts from his conscience. One must remember, however, that Lord Henry has failed to put his philosophy to the test. Although he is a great advocate of sin, he is hardly a sinner, and his understanding of the soul—sickened or otherwise—never incorporates the knowledge that Dorian gradually acquires.

As Dorian prepares, in Chapter Six, to escort Lord Henry and Basil to the theater to see Sibyl Vane perform, Lord Henry chastises Dorian for dismissing, in the face of love, all of his “wrong, fascinating, poisonous, delightful theories.” Here, Lord Henry expounds on the virtues of individualism, which dictate that one develop according to one’s own standards. His outlook relies on Darwinism, a fashionable theory at the time that asserted that an organism’s development would be altered or impaired if it were made to adjust to the standards of another organism. Lord Henry fancies that he and Dorian are creatures that require different standards than the masses in order to develop fully. Thus, he readily rejects modern morality, which governs the many, in favor of a self-determined morality that applies only to himself. Although far from a prig or a Puritan, Lord Henry does spend an inordinate amount of time worrying over Dorian’s development. Contrary to the principle of individualism he takes the time to relate, he not only does his best to insinuate himself between Dorian and Sibyl, but he also takes up Dorian’s proper social development as his pet cause.

This passage from Chapter Eleven describes how Dorian, adjusting to the strange privilege that his portrait affords him, devotes himself to acquiring as many experiences as possible. Here, in order to discover “the true nature of the senses,” Dorian studies rare musical instruments, the arts of jewelry and embroidery, and the psychological effects of perfume. In addition to these pursuits, he begins to devote his time to more sordid affairs, the nature of which is never perfectly clear. We learn, from Basil’s subsequent confrontation, that Dorian is connected with the downfall of numerous youths, all of whom have been brought to shame (and some even driven to suicide) by their associations with Dorian. Whether the outcome of these experiences is “sweet or bitter” is not the point of the philosophy by which Dorian lives; on the contrary, the experience itself is what matters. This “new Hedonism” is a form of resistance against the conventional morality that Lord Henry spends so much of his time criticizing.

This passage, taken from Chapter Eleven, is important because it contains the novel’s only lapse into first-person narration. Here, Wilde appears from behind the scenes to comment on civilized society. He asks the reader if the insincerity necessary to conduct oneself in polite society is “such a terrible thing,” and admits that, in his opinion, it is not. He points, rather unapologetically, to the surface nature of the society in which he lives and repeats a favorite epigram that he also includes in his play Lady Windermere’s Fan: “manners are of more importance than morals.” Indeed, The Picture of Dorian Gray fully supports the observations that Wilde makes in this paragraph. Despite the corrupt nature of Dorian’s soul and despite his utter lack of an acceptable moral code, he continues to be welcomed into society merely because he looks good.

This exchange between Dorian and Lord Henry takes place in Chapter Nineteen, as Dorian, flayed by his conscience, pledges to live a reformed life. Reflecting on the course of his past twenty years, he confronts Lord Henry, whom he believes is responsible for leading him astray. Dorian criticizes the yellow book that, years before, had such a profound influence over him, claiming that this book did him great harm. This accusation is, of course, alien to Wilde’s philosophy of aestheticism, which holds that art cannot be either moral or immoral. Lord Henry says as much, refusing to believe that a book could have such power. While there is something seductive in his observation that “the world calls immoral . . . books that show the world its own shame,” Lord Henry’s words here are less convincing than other statements to the same effect that he makes earlier in the novel. In the latter stages of the novel, we know of Dorian’s downfall, and we know that he is anything but “delightful.” At this point, Lord Henry’s praising of Dorian makes Lord Henry seem hopelessly naïve, the victim of a philosophy whose consequences elude him.