The Better Way
To-day, high on a ridge of the Andes Mountains, high, high above the level of the sea, stands a gigantic bronze monument. It is a figure raised on a pedestal. In one hand it holds a cross, while it extends the other hand in blessing.
The winter winds sweep against it with driving storms of snow. The summer winds whirl drifts of sand around its base. But with peaceful look, the figure gazes far beyond the black rocks, frozen peaks, and rushing torrents of the Andes, toward the busy world of men.
On its base is inscribed:—
Sooner shall these mountains crumble into dust, than Chileans and Argentines shall break the peace to which they have pledged themselves at the feet of Christ the Redeemer.
It is the figure of El Cristo7 of the Andes. It is a monument standing close to a lonely trail, once the highway from Argentina into Chile. It was erected a few years ago by the Republics of Chile and Argentina.
It happened this way:—
The two Republics had disputed for years over the boundary line which passed along the crest of the Andes. Each claimed a large share of valuable territory. Neither would allow the other to settle the boundary line.
Sometimes, the Argentine soldiers, patrolling the frontier, would find the Chilean patrol camping on the disputed ground. The two patrols would have angry words and nearly come to blows. So the bad feeling grew worse until both Republics were ready for war.
Then the Chileans and Argentines remembered that their grandfathers and great-grandfathers, under San Martin and O’Higgins, had fought side by side, and had shed their blood together in the cause of Independence. They could not bring themselves to slaughter each other, for they were brothers.
They agreed to arbitrate. They appealed to England to decide the boundary line for them. King Edward the Seventh sent a commission to the Andes, which surveyed the region to as far south as Cape Horn. The King gave his decision. Thus the boundary question was settled without bloodshed. Though Chile was not quite satisfied, she loyally stood by the King’s decision.
So the conflict was stopped, good feeling returned, and the Republics were saved from the horrors of war.
To commemorate this great event,—the better way of settling a Nation’s quarrel by Arbitration,—the Argentines and Chileans erected El Cristo.
The figure was cast from the metal of old cannon left by the Spanish soldiers when they were driven from the land by O’Higgins and San Martin. It is twenty-six feet high, and is mounted on a huge pedestal. Near it is set up a boundary-marker inscribed on one side Chile, and on the other, Argentina.
El Cristo of the Andes was dedicated. Several thousand people were present. The vast solitudes of the Andes were broken. Cannon roared and bands played. Then the Bishop of Ancud spoke:
“Not only to Argentina and Chile,” he said, “do we dedicate this monument, but to the World, that from this it may learn the lesson of Universal Peace.”
Years have gone by since then. To-day a railroad takes travellers over the mountains by another route. They no longer pass the bronze figure that pleads for Peace.
“The peon with a mail-bag strapped on his back has tramped his way for the last time down the rocky trail in the winter-snows,” writes Mr. Nevin O. Winter, who has seen El Cristo. “El Cristo stands among the lonely crags deserted, isolated, and storm-swept; but ever with a noble dignity befitting the character.”
But Chile and Argentina have not yet forgotten their pledge. They are still showing the World the Better Way—the way of Arbitration and Peace.