Warning: these are all stories of horrific animal abuse and tragic deaths. So if you cried like a baby even when the dragons on GoT died, which I definitely did not do have a soft spot for animals, maybe stop reading.

I think the case of Gilbert Pidcock and the Exeter Change, from the end of the 18th century in London, can clarify at least some of the Edinburgh situation. At least the more, er, exotic parts.

Imperialism

Europeans had long had a fascination with exotic animals, for popular spectacle and as a status symbol. Medieval nobles and royals (in the Near East as well as Europe, in fact) put together menageries as large as they could afford, filled with animals like lions and elephants; they traded prized animals with each other or gave them as gifts. Abul Abbas, the elephant that Carolingian sources report was given to Charlemagne by Harun al-Rashid, is surely the most famous example.

Well, the 18th century was primo European imperialism time, featuring quality Dutch and British involvement, and also saw the expansion of global trade in general. With merchant and some leisure travelers as well as permanent colonizer residents, Britain and the Netherlands became exceptionally rich with menageries more colorful than ever. Elephants, rhinos ("unicorns"), emus, deer, reindeer...you name it.

Menageries continued to be status symbols and spectacles, of course--we're talking about menageries still, not zoos. But they served additional purposes, too. They were wealth generators. Owners like Pidcock or Joshua Brookes charged admission to the public to visit their collections in their permanent "housing" (well, official visitorship might be restricted by social class, especially to royal menageries, but enough of a "tip", read bribe, could get entrance for anyone with the money).

I say "housing" in quotes because we are generally dealing with situations that contributed to animals' deaths within months or just a couple of years. Queen Anne's elephants were kept in a stable and taken for walks in a nearby park, for example, and that's about the best of the stories.

Small cages or stable-yards abound. One set of black swans even lived in a cage on a ship for months--that is, months after their voyage to England!--while their purchaser negotiated with customs officials, trying to pay as little as possible. (Both died shortly after arrival on English soil--including one who managed to escape but was promptly shot down by a hunter.)

In 1710, Zacharias Konrad von Uffenbach visited the menager in the Tower of London--someplace with space, to be sure--and reported one cage that held a dog, two wolves, two very large and savage Indian cats, four lions, and two bald eagles. Poor doggo.

Probably even worse than permanent living/dying situations, though, was owners' second moneymaking strategy: take the animals on tour. They had special vehicles for the very special animals--it was even necessary to outfit a wagon specifically to transport emus from the port to their new "home," much less take them on a longish-distance circuit tour.

Caravans like Pidcock's would generally set up shop in a city for a decent span of time, maybe a month or even more, to accumulate as many visitors as possible. Cities (like Edinburgh! but this is long after the elephant in question) even staged elaborate parades featuring the animals, local nobility, and the animals' keepers. Pidcock in particular, both on tour and at the Exeter Change, like to dress his keeps like Tower of London guards.

Even animals who died in captivity could generate income for their former owners through taxidermy. Stuffing and displaying was not the only use Europeans found for deceased animals, either. Scientists like one of Joshua Brookes' sons (also named Joshua) autopsied the fascinating creatures fairly frequently. They were scientific curiosities as well as being ab/used for money.

Wealth and Its Implications for Current Purposes

Just to be absolutely lead-crystal-leeching-into-your-wine clear, when we talk about menagerie owners, we are talking about really rich people. At least, rich at the time they acquired their animals. The prices they paid are impressive to astronomical. In 1702, David Randall paid Amsterdam trader "Mr. Barden" 1000 extra pounds just to ensure Barden didn't sell an elephant to Randall's archrival in the menagerie business.

I stress this obvious point because it has direct implications for the "upstairs flat" business. My guess is that we are not talking about the average studio or one-bedroom city apartment of today. The Exeter Charge was a (probably, at the time) three story building whose ground floor held numerous shops. On the second floor was a massive Great Room and a few smaller ones. In the 18th century, there was probably also a third floor.

Well, Pidcock not only owned the entire thing, he also bought the building next door to facilitate easy "communication" with the Great Room. (I'm not sure if this means talking from windows or something a bit more Indiana Jones.)

Some of the animals were lithe enough to climb stairs on their own (lions, tigers). I use Pidcock as an example because he had an elephant--and had to retrofit the stairs, apparently some kind of long and gentle staircase like in a fancy theatre, into a slope in order to get the elephant upstairs.

I think it's probable, though not certain, that in Edinburgh we're talking about a similar situation. Please note I have never been to Edinburgh and cannot comment on the architecture of the city, nor on how it has changed since 1706.

The City Rules in Favor of the Elephant Owner

I presume the elephant owner was charging admission for people to visit the elephant, much like he had when she was subject to a tour beforehand. I presume the city was also reaping quite a handsome reward, possibly from a tax; definitely from visitors.

I hope some of this is useful, despite taking place in a different city and at the opposite end of the 18th century.

And I spared you the worst of the animal death stories. :*( Go hug your pet extra for me tonight.