Now the United States, speaking by various organs, has said, in language scarcely to be misunderstood, that she is resolved to resort to force, if necessary, to prevent the territorial or political extension of European power beyond its present geographical limits in the American continents.  In the question of a disputed boundary she has held that this resolve—­dependent upon what she conceives her reasonable policy—­required her to insist that the matter should be submitted to arbitration.  If Great Britain should see in this political stand the expression of a reasonable national policy, she is able, by the training and habit of her leaders, to accept it as such, without greatly troubling over the effect upon men’s opinions that may be produced by the additional announcement that the policy is worth fighting for, and will be fought for if necessary.  It would be a matter of course for her to fight for her just interests, if need be, and why should not another state say the same?  The point—­of honor, if you like—­is not whether a nation will fight, but whether its claim is just.  Such an attitude, however, is not the spirit of “militarism,” nor accordant with it; and in nations saturated with the military spirit, the intimation that a policy will be supported by force raises that sort of point of honor behind which the reasonableness of the policy is lost to sight.  It can no longer be viewed dispassionately; it is prejudged by the threat, however mildly that be expressed.  And this is but a logical development of their institutions.  The soldier, or the state much of whose policy depends upon organized force, cannot but resent the implication that he or it is unable or unwilling to meet force with force.  The life of soldiers and of armies is their spirit, and that spirit receives a serious wound when it seems—­even superficially—­to recoil before a threat; while with the weakening of the military body falls an element of political strength which has no analogue in Great Britain or the United States, the chief military power of which must lie ever in navies, never an aggressive factor such as armies have been.

Now, the United States has made an announcement that she will support by force a policy which may bring her into collision with states of military antecedents, indisposed by their interests to acquiesce in our position, and still less willing to accept it under appearance of threat.  What preparation is necessary in case such a one is as determined to fight against our demands as we to fight for them?

Preparation for war, rightly understood, falls under two heads,—­preparation and preparedness.  The one is a question mainly of material, and is constant in its action.  The second involves an idea of completeness.  When, at a particular moment, preparations are completed, one is prepared—­not otherwise.  There may have been made a great deal of very necessary preparation for war without being prepared.  Every constituent of preparation may be behindhand, or some elements may be perfectly ready, while others are not.  In neither case can a state be said to be prepared.