Prowess

Prowess is essential to chivalry. It’s that rare combination of strength, skill, and courage that allows a man to stand firm when danger looms. Noble intentions alone won’t suffice; without the fortitude to back them, chivalry becomes little more than a hollow ideal—a beautiful sword, perhaps, but one that would break in the heat of battle.

In our modern age, we hear much about the virtues of nonviolence. “Violence is never the answer,” we’re told, and “Be like Gandhi.” These maxims, while not without merit, can obscure a harder truth: despite all our progress, the human heart remains capable of great darkness. Chaos and brutality are never far away. A chivalrous man recognizes this. He hopes for peace, but he understands the need to prepare for something else entirely.

This is why the chivalrous man does not neglect his physical or martial readiness. True chivalry isn’t just about being kind or courteous; it’s about being ready and able to defend what is good. This readiness takes effort—lifting weights, practicing self-defense, learning to master both body and mind. It’s not vanity that drives him, but a clear understanding that chivalry requires more than good intentions; it requires strength.

Some might object, arguing that physical training is unnecessary or even vain. “It’s mental toughness that counts,” they might say. But such arguments miss the point. Chivalry is not for those who would shy away from the demands of physical prowess. It’s for those who understand that true kindness must be supported by strength, that the ability to protect is just as crucial as the will to do so.

Prowess, then, is not an optional extra in the chivalrous life. It’s foundational. Without it, the virtues of chivalry—courage, honor, loyalty—remain merely words, without the substance to sustain them. For the knight, as for any man who seeks to live by the code of chivalry, prowess is the strength that undergirds all other virtues.