We take so many of our freedoms for granted nowadays - I can

“We take so many of our freedoms for granted nowadays—I can travel where I like, I can have a baby when I like, I can do any job I want—but I do think chivalry has been lost a little bit.” Thus spoke Dan Stevens, and his words carry both gratitude and lament. For he gives thanks for the countless freedoms of the modern age—freedoms for which generations before us fought, bled, and dreamed. Yet he also mourns the fading of chivalry, that ancient spirit of courtesy, honor, and noble regard for others, especially for the vulnerable. In this balance of blessing and loss lies a timeless lesson: that progress may give us power, but without virtue, power becomes hollow.

When Stevens lists the gifts of our age—the freedom to travel, to choose when to bear children, to pursue any labor—he reminds us how extraordinary our lives truly are. These liberties, so easily assumed as normal, were once denied to the many. There was a time when borders bound people in place, when fate and family dictated destiny, when women especially were denied both choice and voice. Now, the walls have fallen, and possibilities abound. Yet the danger lies in forgetting the cost at which these freedoms were bought, and the responsibilities that must accompany them.

But he adds: “chivalry has been lost a little bit.” Here lies his lament. For in the pursuit of freedom, some of the ancient virtues have slipped from our grasp. Chivalry—once the code that guided knights and nobles—was not only gallantry toward women, but honor, protection of the weak, and service to the greater good. It was the spirit that taught strength must be tempered by humility, and freedom by duty. To lose chivalry is to risk a society where liberty serves only the self, and courtesy, respect, and honor are forgotten.

History shows us the fruit of this virtue. Recall the knights of the medieval age, who, though often flawed, sought to embody ideals of loyalty, bravery, and service to those in need. Or consider the leaders of reform and resistance—Abraham Lincoln, who used the power of his office not to dominate but to preserve the union and free the enslaved, and Florence Nightingale, who devoted her strength to care for the wounded in war. Each, in their own way, lived out a form of chivalry: the use of strength not for self, but for others.

The words of Stevens warn us that without such virtues, freedom becomes brittle. For what is the use of being able to travel anywhere, if we travel without respect for those we meet? What is the worth of choosing our work, if we pursue ambition without honor? What is the blessing of controlling our lives, if we forget the duty to uplift those who cannot yet do the same? Freedom without chivalry is abundance without soul, progress without humanity.

The lesson for us is this: rejoice in your freedoms, but do not take them for granted. Carry them with gratitude, and temper them with the noble spirit of chivalry. Let your strength be used not only for yourself, but for those who need it. Be courteous in a world that is hurried, be honorable in a world that is self-seeking, be protective of the weak in a world that often exploits them. In doing so, you restore to freedom the dignity it requires.

Practical wisdom follows. Hold doors not only in courtesy, but in spirit: open the way for others in your work, your words, your daily actions. Defend those who are silenced or overlooked. Treat strangers with kindness and family with honor. Seek always to combine liberty with love, power with humility. These small acts are the living form of chivalry in our time.

Thus let Dan Stevens’ words be remembered: we are rich in freedoms, but we must not lose the nobility that gives those freedoms worth. For progress without virtue is like a sword without a guiding hand—shining, but dangerous. May we carry forward not only the liberties of the modern age, but the ancient spirit of chivalry that teaches us how to use them well.