Edmund Burke famously blamed revolutionary France for abolishing chivalry, but perhaps it was the overripe sensuality of the Pre-Raphaelite Arthurian revival that tarnished chivalry's holy armour in the post-Enlightenment imagination. A case in point: Tennyson's knight may have wished the Lady of Shalott well on her way into the next life" — God in his mercy, lend her grace" — but only once he had dazzled her to death with his brazen greaves. The fact of the matter is, however, that chivalry itself was always an unstable entity, inviting poet and envoy Peter of Blois to proclaim a crisis as far back as the 13th century, as the Church struggled to reconcile violent mercenary life with divine duty. 

Chivalry, then, never quite lived up to the noble ideals of the troubadors and their ladies. It degenerated into a mere code of male manners once it became obvious fighting in the name of God was just too difficult for the Church to justify. Which probably means that these facile debates on the death of chivalry being an inevitable and positive consequence of women's rights would do just as well to explore the seemingly paradoxical challenge of trying to live "a sublime form of secular life" in an age where the Church didn't always inspire confidence in its congregation — much like today. Of course, we couldn't illustrate those with pictures of the comely Michelle Dockery or her like. When it comes to chivalry, it's always been easier to focus on Her Indoors rather than Him Upstairs.