ALONG a classic New Town street, past ornate black iron railings and through an elaborate set of gates; today, the view from Fettes Row to King George V playing fields is little more than a patch of greenery among the smart grey town- houses, a haven from the rumble of the traffic over the cobblestones, somewhere to walk the dog and for the children to play.
Yet 150 years ago, this was the site of something truly sensational: perhaps the most striking, unusual and bizarre structures ever erected in the Capital.
In a city which over the years has seen its share of curiosities - including a recreation of Mount Vesuvius, a Disneyland-style home and an underground cave dwelling - the Royal Patent Gymnasium was in a league of its own.
Now long gone and almost entirely forgotten, it was one of many follies and fun houses that amused, entertained and - in the gymnasium's case - exercised our forefathers in days before television, cinema and expensive gym memberships.
The brainchild of Gorgie businessman John Cox, the Royal Patent Gymnasium opened in 1865, and it was simply incredible.
It had everything the sporting Victorian might need to keep fit plus much, much more.
Capable of entertaining thousands - through either gentle exercise, placid spectating or a tough workout - it was on a scale bordering on the ridiculous.
Its prime attraction - the Patent Rotary Boat, a sort of merry-go-round on water, which could hold 600 passengers and 125 rowers - must have astonished the hundreds who lined the Fettes Row railings the April afternoon of the grand opening.
"The so-called 'boat' is in the form of a circle, 471 feet in circumference and six feet wide," reported The Scotsman at the time. "It is placed in a large circular artificial pond and is designed to rotate with rapid motion when the means of propulsion are applied."
Cox didn't stop there. His "velocipede merry-go-round" was just as impressive. "It is a circular wheel 50 feet in diameter and 157 feet in circumference. The outer rim of the wheel is broad and rounded like a saddle and is formed so that 144 boys can sit astride and propel the huge machine in a circle by pressing their feet against a wooden staging - upon the principle of a velocipede," explained The Scotsman.
"Within the outer rim, where the boys take their seats, there are rows of seats which will accommodate 180 persons who will enjoy the rotary movement"
The structures must have been quite a sight. As must the vision of 200 stiffly dressed Victorians perched on Chang, "the giant's see-saw", a wooden beam 100ft long supported on an iron axle 25ft above the ground. Each elevation took its occupants - up to 200 of them - 50ft off the ground.
There were also two "giant's strides" - wooded beams fixed perpendicular to the ground rising to 30ft with a wheel on top. Attached to the wheel were eight chains, 27ft long, with wooden handles for Victorian lads to grasp as they swung themselves round.
For anyone who still had the energy, there were bowls, vaults, climbing poles, stilts, quoits, swimming . . . all for 6d.
Dreamed up by the genial Mr Cox, a tannery boss whose glue and gelatine business at Gorgie Mills exported worldwide, the gymnasium was intended to help improve the health of his fellow citizens. Cox was determined to provide a place of amusement, recreation and bracing physical training.
He chose what was once Canonmills Loch, between Eyre Place and Royal Crescent, which had been drained to make way for the New Town houses and the developing rail links at Scotland Street Station. Soon his vast wooden structures were towering over the site, marvels of his ingenuity and of Victorian engineering.
None more so than The Prince Alfred Wreck Escape, an "ingenious swimming apparatus" which enabled non-swimmers to experience the dubious thrills of escaping from a stricken ship. The gymnasium was soon at the heart of Victorian life in the city.
In winter the pond would be lit at night for skaters and there would be music from military bands Athletics, bike races, and the genteel Victorian past-time of pedestrianism - which taken to extremes saw participants embark on gruelling walking challenges that could last days - all happened within those iron railings.
It wouldn't last. Cox's death, aged 70, was the beginning of the end. Soon there would be complaints of foul smells from the gymnasium ponds and rowdy drinking sessions. The grand gym's structures were dismantled and the ground cleared to make way for a new kind of sport - football.
James Cox's astonishing outdoor gym, which entertained and exercised thousands of Victorians, was no more: a rather miserable end for the self proclaimed "wonder of Edinburgh".
Search the Scotsman Digital Archive for thousands of articles dating from 1817 to 1950, available to subscribers on www.scotsman.com
Appeared Feb, 11, 2006 Edinburgh Evening News.
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