The best way to get most husbands to do something is to suggest

“The best way to get most husbands to do something is to suggest that perhaps they're too old to do it.” Thus spoke Ann Bancroft, and though her words carry the lilt of humor, they rest upon a deep observation of human nature. She reminds us that pride, particularly the pride of men in their strength and vitality, often stirs them to action more swiftly than reason or request. To suggest that one is “too old” is to touch upon the warrior’s heart, for no man wishes to be thought feeble, nor to believe that the fire of youth has abandoned him.

The ancients knew this well. Achilles raged when his honor was questioned, Odysseus endured impossible trials rather than be thought less than cunning, and Cato the Elder, well into his years, insisted on proving his vigor before younger men. Bancroft’s jest echoes this eternal truth: men, and especially husbands, are often moved not by duty alone, but by the challenge to their strength and pride. To doubt them is to ignite them, and in that flame they find energy to act where persuasion failed.

In marriage, this becomes a dance of wit and affection. A wife, knowing her husband’s pride, may choose not to demand nor plead, but to provoke gently, suggesting with a smile that he may no longer have the vigor for the task. At once, the husband, wishing to prove otherwise, leaps into action. What seemed impossible or tedious becomes suddenly necessary—because his honor, however playful the challenge, has been stirred. Here lies the wisdom hidden in Bancroft’s humor: that love often requires not force, but the art of speaking to the secret chords of the heart.

History gives us many examples. Consider the tale of Eleanor Roosevelt, who often steered her husband Franklin not by command but by clever persuasion. When she wished him to consider ideas he resisted, she would never confront him with blunt demands; instead, she provoked his sense of responsibility, or subtly suggested he might not have the stamina to face the challenge. In this, she awakened his pride and spurred him forward. Thus Bancroft’s playful insight reflects a strategy as old as leadership itself: to motivate by stirring the desire to prove one’s strength.

Yet her words also carry a caution. For while pride can be a powerful motivator, it can also be dangerous if manipulated harshly or without love. To wound the dignity of a partner is to sow resentment, but to tease it gently is to awaken vitality. The wisdom here is not to mock, but to challenge with affection, reminding one’s beloved that they are capable, strong, and alive. Thus the jest is not cruelty, but a way of saying: “I believe you still have fire within you—show me.”

The lesson is plain: know the nature of those you love, and speak to it with care. If your partner values pride, honor that pride while guiding it toward good action. If they resist duty, awaken their competitive spirit or their longing to prove themselves. In this way, a home becomes not a battlefield of commands and refusals, but a garden of encouragement, where wit and wisdom inspire action more gently than force.

Practical wisdom follows: do not always demand, nor always yield. Instead, learn the art of gentle provocation, wrapped in humor and love. Remind your partner of their strength, even as you invite them to act. Use pride not to belittle, but to uplift. And above all, remember that marriage is not a contest of wills but a union of hearts, where the clever word may accomplish more than the harsh order.

Thus Ann Bancroft’s words, though lighthearted, shine with enduring truth. Husbands and wives alike are often stirred to greatness not by duty, but by the desire to prove their worth. To awaken this desire with humor and affection is not trickery but wisdom, a reminder that love itself is not only serious but playful. For in the dance of pride and persuasion lies one of the oldest secrets of harmony between two souls.