"I'm called away by particular business - but I leave my character behind me"
About this Quote
The line lands like a polite bow with a hidden knife: Sheridan’s speaker claims a routine excuse for exit - “particular business” - then drops the real payload, “but I leave my character behind me.” It’s a perfect Sheridan maneuver, turning a social commonplace into a moral indictment. In the world of his comedies, people are always “called away” by urgent matters that conveniently spare them awkward truths. The phrase mimics the language of propriety, then punctures it with a confession that’s either brazenly honest or deliciously evasive.
“Character” does double duty. It’s reputation, the public mask that circulates in drawing rooms long after you’ve left the room; it’s also character-as-performance, the role you’ve been playing to manage the crowd. The joke is that the speaker can physically depart while their constructed self stays behind, still doing PR, still being talked about, still earning (or losing) social credit. Sheridan’s subtext is that society doesn’t run on virtue so much as on the story of virtue - and that story can be outsourced.
Contextually, this is the late-18th-century theater’s favorite sport: exposing how manners become currency. Sheridan wrote in an era obsessed with polish, rumor, and the fragile economics of respectability. The line flatters the audience’s self-image as sophisticated judges while quietly implicating them as the system that makes “character” detachable. If reputation can linger independently of the person, then integrity is less an inner compass than a prop left onstage for others to admire, borrow, or dismantle.
“Character” does double duty. It’s reputation, the public mask that circulates in drawing rooms long after you’ve left the room; it’s also character-as-performance, the role you’ve been playing to manage the crowd. The joke is that the speaker can physically depart while their constructed self stays behind, still doing PR, still being talked about, still earning (or losing) social credit. Sheridan’s subtext is that society doesn’t run on virtue so much as on the story of virtue - and that story can be outsourced.
Contextually, this is the late-18th-century theater’s favorite sport: exposing how manners become currency. Sheridan wrote in an era obsessed with polish, rumor, and the fragile economics of respectability. The line flatters the audience’s self-image as sophisticated judges while quietly implicating them as the system that makes “character” detachable. If reputation can linger independently of the person, then integrity is less an inner compass than a prop left onstage for others to admire, borrow, or dismantle.
Quote Details
| Topic | Honesty & Integrity |
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