The Masculine Art of Listening: Lessons from Pride and Prejudice

This month, Great Catholic Book Club is reading Pride and Prejudice and exploring its themes through a Catholic lens—particularly virtue and the sacrament of marriage. As I’ve reflected on the book, I find myself drawn to one fundamental truth about marriage that I didn’t understand when I first became a husband: the necessity of truly listening to my wife.

I don’t mean hearing her words and nodding along. I mean letting her in—opening myself to what she is telling me, making room for it, and allowing it to shape my actions. Listening, real listening, requires humility, attentiveness, and the courage to set aside ego. It is something that I had to learn, and I believe it is something that many men must rediscover.

Jane Austen gives us several examples of men who fail their wives, each in different ways.

Mr. Bennet is dismissive. He treats his wife as little more than a source of amusement, never taking her seriously enough to understand her needs or help her grow in virtue. His condescension stunts their marriage because he is unwilling to listen with sincerity.

Mr. Collins and Wickham take a different approach—they see their wives as objects to be acquired, each for his own gain. Collins values Charlotte as a step toward security and social standing, while Wickham sees Lydia as a tool for indulgence. Neither man listens because neither cares about his wife’s soul, her needs, or her growth.

Mr. Bingley may seem kind, but he lacks substance. He is too impressionable to truly lead or listen. His relationship with Jane cannot fully flourish until he matures enough to hear her, and she in turn gains the courage to express what she truly needs.

And then there is Mr. Darcy.

Darcy does what none of these other men can do—he listens. When Elizabeth rejects his proposal, he doesn’t shut her down, dismiss her, or react with defensiveness. Instead, he absorbs her words, considers them, and genuinely allows them to transform him.

Where Elizabeth is misinformed, he gently provides clarity—not out of pride, but out of care for her well-being. Where she is right, he humbles himself, examines his character, and works to set things right. At no point does he manipulate her, force himself upon her, or demand recognition. He listens because he loves her, and he allows that love to shape his actions.

When I first read Pride and Prejudice, I had never seen an example of a husband truly listening to his wife in that way. A priest once told me, “Ninety percent of husbandry is listening to your wife.” At the time, I didn’t understand what that meant—but Darcy showed me.

Darcy gave me a model to follow: to hear my wife, to see her heart, to make space for her words without my ego getting in the way. It seems so simple, doesn’t it? Listen to your wife. And yet, it is not something I was raised to do. I don’t think many men are.

The art of masculine listening—listening with humility, love, and action—is something we must reclaim. Not just for the sake of our marriages, but for the sake of our souls.