The shocking disillusionment that befell the Titanic’s passengers following such confidence, triviality, and arrogance stunned her survivors, investors, the nautical community, and the world. The Edwardian period, during which the Titanic was designed, built, and sailed, was defined by a self-congratulatory attitude among the most privileged members of Western society, who were enjoying the fruits of their prowess. They’d transformed steam into power, incorporated electricity, begun a production line of automobiles, and defied gravity in their growing industrial and architectural accomplishments. A sense of mastery over nature and the elements at whose mercy their ancestors had once lived pervaded Western society. Their confidence in their creations—and in the infallibility of those creations—engendered a kind of “blindness.” At the height of that arrogance were the aristocrats and tycoons who made up the Titanic’s elite first-class passenger roster.

The Titanic’s owners believed that they’d addressed all the possible concerns and engineered around any possible obstacles—and that they could control all potential emergencies on board. A built-in contingency was presumed for every single possible negative scenario. The number of people who refused to get into the lifeboats, either because they didn’t wish to be inconvenienced or because they couldn’t appreciate the gravity of what was happening around them is a testament to how aggressively the myth of the Titanic’s invincibility had permeated the lore surrounding her even before her first voyage.