The only good husbands stay bachelors: They're too considerate to

“The only good husbands stay bachelors: They're too considerate to get married.” Thus wrote Finley Peter Dunne, with the sharp humor of a satirist whose wit was his sword. At first hearing, the words sound as jest, a playful jab at the burdens and ironies of marriage. Yet beneath the laughter there lies a profound reflection on the tension between consideration and duty, between the ideal of selflessness and the realities of married life. Dunne suggests that the men who would make the gentlest, most considerate husbands refrain from marriage altogether, precisely because they fear imposing themselves, their flaws, or their demands upon another.

The ancients themselves often cloaked wisdom in jest. The cynics mocked marriage as a trap; the stoics, though exalting family life, warned that it demanded a strength many did not possess. Dunne’s words stand in that lineage, teaching through paradox. For is it not true that those who are most cautious of hurting others often withdraw, while the bold and inconsiderate stride forward heedlessly? In this way, the saying reminds us that marriage requires not only love but courage—the courage to risk, to fail, and to impose upon another the full weight of one’s humanity.

Consider the life of Sir Isaac Newton, whose towering intellect illuminated the heavens but who never took a wife. Some biographers suggest that his withdrawal from intimacy stemmed from a temperament too severe, too cautious, or too absorbed in the cosmos. Perhaps, as Dunne wryly suggests, Newton’s genius and relentless drive made him too “considerate” of what a wife might suffer in a life bound to his obsessions. He remained a bachelor, sparing himself and others the sacrifices such a marriage would demand. His example illustrates how brilliance, tenderness, or restraint can lead a man away from marriage, not into it.

But Dunne’s jest also points to a darker truth: that many who enter marriage fail to act with true consideration. The very institution, though blessed with vows of fidelity and devotion, can descend into selfishness when one partner assumes the other’s labor, loyalty, and sacrifice without gratitude. By saying that “the good husbands stay bachelors,” Dunne casts light upon the failures of many marriages, where men neglect the virtues of thoughtfulness and care. He warns that the title of “husband” does not guarantee goodness; indeed, goodness requires a daily practice of selflessness that few truly master.

And yet, though satirical, Dunne’s words should not be taken as despair. Rather, they summon us to rise above the cynicism. If it is true that only the most considerate avoid marriage, then the lesson is plain: those who do marry must strive all the harder to cultivate consideration in their unions. To be present, to listen, to yield, to cherish—these are the daily sacrifices that transform marriage from burden into blessing. What Dunne presents as paradox may, with effort, be overturned by devotion.

The lesson for us is this: do not shrink from marriage out of fear of imperfection, but enter it with the resolve to be more considerate than you imagined possible. Do not allow the jest to become prophecy. Instead, prove that the best husbands are not those who avoid marriage, but those who embrace it with humility and constant regard for their wives. In this way, the humor becomes inspiration, calling us to embody the ideal Dunne pretends is impossible.

Practical wisdom follows: if you are married, ask yourself daily, “Have I been considerate? Have I spoken with kindness? Have I honored the burdens of my partner?” If you are unmarried, do not think that goodness requires you to stay alone, but that it requires you to prepare yourself for the responsibility of joining your life with another. For true consideration is not in fleeing duty, but in shouldering it with gentleness.

Thus Finley Peter Dunne, in his jest, leaves us not with despair but with a challenge. The only good husbands, he claims, stay bachelors. But let us prove him wrong. Let us strive to make marriages where both husband and wife practice such profound consideration that neither fears to impose, and both find joy in mutual care. In this way, the ancient jest is overturned by living truth, and marriage becomes not a burden, but a path of love refined by thoughtfulness.