Having been shaken by several earthquakes, and scorched by a fire in the neighbourhood, the column is splitting in many places, and is here and there belted with iron to prevent its coming to pieces. They say that it was at one time surmounted by a statue of Apollo, afterwards by one of Constantine, and lastly by that of Theodosius the elder, all of which were successively thrown down by a gale or an earthquake. The Greeks tell the following story about the obelisk in the hippodrome, which I mentioned above. They say that it was torn from its base, and lay on the ground for many years, and that in the time of the later Emperors, an architect was found who undertook to replace it on its pedestal. The contract being concluded, he set up a huge machine, which was chiefly worked by ropes and pulleys; by this means he got the huge stone into an upright position, and raised it within three inches of the blocks, on which it had to be placed. The spectators forthwith concluded that all the architect’s trouble, and the labour he had bestowed on his machine, had been to no purpose, and that the work would have to be begun afresh, at the cost of great toil and great expense. But the architect was not in the least alarmed, and, profiting by one of nature’s secrets, he ordered large supplies of water to be brought. With this for several hours the machine was drenched. As the ropes, by which the obelisk was suspended, got wet, they gradually contracted, and of course became shorter, so that the obelisk was raised higher and placed on the blocks, amid the cheers and admiration of the crowd.[120] I saw at Constantinople wild beasts of different kinds—lynxes, wild cats, panthers, leopards, and lions, so subdued and tame that one of them, when I was looking on, suffered its keeper to pull out of its mouth a sheep that had that moment been thrown to it. The creature remained quite quiet, though its jaws were but just stained with blood. I saw also a young elephant which could dance and play ball most cleverly. When you read this, I am sure you will not be able to suppress a smile. ‘An elephant,’ you will say, ‘dancing and playing ball!’ Well, why not? Is it more wonderful than the elephant which, Seneca tells us, walked on the tight rope, or that one which Pliny describes as a Greek scholar? But I must make myself clear, lest you should think I am romancing, or misunderstand me. When the elephant was told to dance, it hopped and shuffled, swaying itself to and fro, as if it fain would dance a jig. It played ball after the following fashion:—On the ball being thrown to it, the elephant caught it cleverly, driving it back with his trunk, as we do with the palm of the hand. If this is not enough in your eyes to warrant the assertion that the animal danced and played ball, you must go to some one who can make up a story with less scruple and more wit than your humble servant.