The civilised world is suffering from the shock of a huge calamity, the sorrow attending which is brought home with particular force to our own town of Southampton.

The loss of the White Star liner Titanic is a disaster of a magnitude which is unparalled in the annals of the Mercantile Marine.

Great disasters there have been, spreading bereavement and sorrow over a wide circle, but nothing so huge as this has ever happened before. The Titanic, the largest ship in the world, only on Wednesday last week left Southampton on her first voyage with all the pomp and circumstance attendant on her reputation as the Queen of the Ocean; early on Monday morning she sunk off the Banks of Newfoundland and became the coffin of her officers, crew and male passengers in number variously estimated between 1,200 and 1,500, the victims certainly totalling not less than the first named number.

The vessel which had been making a splendid voyage up to the time of the mishap, struck an iceberg about half-past ten on Sunday night, and though her construction in the way of bulkheads and other appliances was supposed to render her unsinkable, the impact, which must have been under water, was so great that the vessel's bottom was probably ripped open, and she sank within four hours, carrying with her "to sleep in the noiseless bed of rest" her officers, crew, and the majority of her passengers.

Directly after the collision wireless messages imploring help were sent out from the huge liner, and very soon a number of outgoing and incoming vessels, including her own sister-ship Olympic were hastening to her rescue; but none arrived on the scene in time to save life or to aid the vessel herself, and so far as one could judge from the contradictory reports which came to hand, none but the terrified persons in the ship's boats saw the last of the splendid vessel, for which an enthusiastic and appropriate welcome was awaiting in New York as the "Pride of the Ocean."

The appalling character of the disaster cannot be exaggerated; it is a disaster unparalleled, as we have said, in the history of navigation, and the only comfort to be gained from it is that it afforded an occasion for the display of the finest traditions of British seamanship.

"Women and children first" was the cry raised when the order for "out boats" was given, and this was obeyed, and obeyed no doubt even the more cheerfully because of the supposed stability of the huge ship.

The Prime Minister spoke well in the House of Commons on Tuesday afternoon when, making a statement about the disaster, he said: "We cannot do more at this moment than give a necessary imperfect expression of our sense of admiration that the best traditions of the sea seem to have been observed in the willing sacrifices which were offered of the first chance to safety to those who were least able to help themselves, and to award the warm and heartfelt sympathy of the whole nation to those who find themselves suddenly bereft of their nearest and dearest in their desolated homes." Members took their hats from their heads while Mr Asquith was speaking, and a deep murmur of acquiescence rose from the benches as he alluded to the bravery in the saving of the women and children. The King and Queen and the ever sympathetic and beloved Queen Alexandra were among the first to send expressions of sympathy with those who have been bereaved.

When the first news of the collision came to hand there was good ground for hoping that all on board would be saved; indeed there were definite messages from New York that no lives had been lost, but this hope was rudely crushed by the news that came to hand late on Monday night that the vessel had sunk, and that the welcome news of the arrival of several liners on the scene were merely figments of imagination which outran the ascertained facts.

The Carpathia was the first to arrive, and found the ship's boats awaiting rescue, but beyond these, an ocean of wreckage was the only evidence of the tragic disaster that had befallen the proudest ship that ever rode the waves.

What more can be said of the affair? We have had "to comfort" - we use Mr Asqueth's well expressed words - "one of those terrible events in the order of providence which baffles foresight, appals the imagination, and which makes us feel the inadequacy of words to do justice to what we feel."

The disaster, as we have stated, comes home with peculiar force to our own town. Southampton, unhappily, is no stranger to loads of bereavement brought by disaster to ships hailing from the port. The loss by fire of the Royal Mail Company's new steamer Amazon in January 1852, only two days after leaving port on her first voyage, like the Titanic, with great loss of life, is probably the earliest disaster of the kind remembered; then, in after years, came the losses, in the West India hurricane, of the Rhone and Wye, also belonging to the same Company. The names of the victims are recorded on the fine monument erected by public subscription I Southampton Cemetery; later on came the wrecks of the Normandy, the Union Company's steamer Teuton, and the Setlla, all of which necessitated the raising of public funds for the relief of the bereaved, and now comes the case of the Titanic, which will awaken public sympathy in a degree that will ever exceed, because of the greater number of sufferers to be dealt with, that shown in the several cases we have mentioned.

The crew, probably every man of them - sailors, firemen, stewards and nearly all the officers resided when at home in Southampton. While sorrowing so deeply for those who are lost, we must not - we shall not - forget our duty to those who have been bereaved of their breadwinners. We need not recount the harrowing stories of widows and families who have lost their husbands and fathers in this great calamity; these might be told by hundreds, and imagination will supplement what is already known from ascertained facts.

The duty of the public is clear in the matter, and we are pleased to see that appeals which are being made are meeting with a prompt and liberal response. The invaluable aid of the great contemporary "The Daily Telegraph" was at once volunteered, and a subscription list in aid of the sufferers has been opened by that journal, and a Women's Fund is being raised by "The Daily Mail."

The Mayor of Southampton acted very promptly in the matter, and at once put himself in communication with the Lord Mayor of London with the view of securing his lordships co-operation. The Lord Mayor at once promised to open a Fund, and directly he made the announcement donations came flowing in, headed by liberal subscriptions from the King and Queen, Queen Alexandra, and other members of the Royal Family. Between £30,000 and £40,000 had been raised by last night, which may appear a large amount, as indeed it is, but the need is very great, and the experience gained by administration of funds previously raised shows that even £100,000 would not adequately cope with the destitution and misery which the wreck of the Titanic has caused.

The hush of sympathy with the bereaved must be supplemented by practical help that will relieve the present necessities and secure for them a fund, inadequate though it be, which will in some measure compensate them for the cruel period of sorrow they are at present passing through. Promptitude is necessary; we need not repeat the proverb as to the importance of giving quickly, that importance is being already recognised.