A Schplendid Guide to Eight-Way Hand-Tied Springs: the Science and Art of Perfect Sofa Suspension
Posted posted on November 06, 2025
Everything you could possibly have ever wanted to know about sofa springs...
At Schplendid we do something that almost nobody else bothers with anymore: we make our sofas with eight-way hand tied springs.
You can read about why we’ve revived that lost art here(short answer: they make for absurdly comfortable and long-lasting sofas). But there’s actually a fascinating history behind sofa springs – if you like that sort of thing. Here’s a Schplendid guide to the history of bouncy comfort…
“We could build sofas the quick way, but then we’d be like everyone else. This is how the best have done it for 200 years. It takes longer, it costs more, and it’s worth every minute.” – Rohan Blacker, founder of Schplendid
The secret under your seat
Most people never think about what’s going on beneath them when they sit down — which is probably for the best. But if you ever cut a Schplendid sofa in half (please don’t), you’d find something rather marvellous: a grid of steel coils lashed together with jute twine, like a Boy Scout project gone slightly mad.
The springs in the middle of the grid are tied in eight directions – front to back, side to side, and diagonally – so that when you sit on one, the others join in. It’s a sort of mechanical teamwork. As Rohan puts it, “When you compress one spring, the neighbours tied to it come down together. They work as a team.”
This old-fashioned bit of upholstery wizardry is what gives a proper sofa that deep, reassuring give – a bounce that feels alive rather than air-mattress bouncy. It’s also fiddly, time-consuming, and almost extinct, which of course makes us love it even more.
From Bows to Bentleys: A Short History of Springs
If you think springs are a modern invention, you’re about – oooh, six thousand years out. Anything elastic that stores and releases energy, from a bent bow to a catapult, technically counts as a spring. So the first “spring technology” was probably someone stringing a bit of animal gut across a stick and realising it could fling a rock at dinner. Humanity has been rebounding ever since.
Leonardo da Vinci's design for a giant crossbow – featured in his Codex Atlanticus– uses a clever (but probably unworkable in practice) spring system
By the Renaissance, springs had gone from hunting tools to pocket miracles. Leonardo da Vinci is credited with experimenting with coiled springs in his designs for firearms – an early attempt to make a pistol that could fire one-handed. Whether or not he succeeded is up for debate, but the idea stuck. Flat “leaf” springs powered locks, latches and early clocks, and by the 1600s Robert Hooke had written down the simple rule that governs them all: ut tensio, sic vis — “as the extension, so the force.” Hooke’s Law was the birth of spring science.
A three-quarter-elliptic leaf spring on a carriage wheel. Image: creative commons
The real revolution came in the 18th century with carriage suspension. The French began fitting curved strips of steel (more “leaf springs”) to smooth the ride. In 1763, a British inventor named Richard Tredwell patented something new: a coiled spring for carriages (Patent No. 792). It was a simple but brilliant idea: a spiral of tempered metal that could flex in any direction and didn’t need greasing like the old leaf types.
Once steelmaking caught up in the 19th century, the coil spring took off. The first steel coil spring for seating was patented around 1857, and upholsterers quickly realised that a few rows of small coils could turn a chair from a wooden perch into something you might actually want to sit on. By the 1820s and 1830s, patents were appearing for sprung seats and mattresses, and by the later Victorian period the technique had become the hallmark of quality upholstery.
Furniture, carriages, railway seats – anything that involved both weight and wobble – all borrowed the same idea. When the motor car arrived, it naturally inherited the spring’s DNA. A 1920s Bentley suspension system is, in principle, the same as a Howard & Sons sofa base: a network of tempered steel coils sharing the load.
A 1924 Bentley 3-litre Sports Tourer - at the cutting edge of spring suspension technology. Image: creative commons
Then, inevitably, modernity struck. The Industrial Revolution gave us machines that could stamp, staple and stretch wire far faster than any human could tie it. Zig-zag springs appeared; comfort got quicker and cheaper; craftsmanship slowly exited stage left. By the mid-20th century, the eight-way hand-tied method had become a near-lost art — too slow for mass production, too invisible for marketing departments.
Until Schplendid came along, of course...
How the eight-way system works...
A good eight-way system starts with a strong wooden frame, webbed with straps (ours are made of jute). Onto that go rows of coiled steel springs, each one the same size and pitch. Then the upholsterer starts the laborious part: tying every spring to its neighbours — north, south, east, west, and the four diagonals in between.
The result is a kind of flexible lattice. Sit down, and your weight is shared across the grid. The springs yield together, absorb energy, and gently push back. There’s no single weak point, no saggy middle seat. The whole thing acts like a miniature suspension bridge under your backside.
Each tie has to be tensioned just right. Too tight, and you get trampoline. Too loose, and the sofa feels tired from day one. It’s a balancing act that depends entirely on the maker’s hands and judgement. You can’t automate that – though plenty have tried.
A Schplendid sofa spring grid
...And why it works (the science bit, in plain English)
Each coil is made from high-carbon tempered steel, the same family of alloys used in car suspensions. The metal is springy because its internal crystal structure is slightly stressed: bend it, and it wants to snap back into shape.
The geometry matters too. A narrower coil with more turns feels softer; a wider one with fewer turns feels firmer. The way they’re tied determines how the whole seat behaves. We can make the springs slightly firmer at the front (to stop you sliding forward) and softer at the back (to cradle the spine).
In engineering terms, you’re creating a multi-directional network of load distribution with built-in damping. Which is exactly as clever as it sounds, but you can just call it “comfy”.
Why eight-way springs feel different
Comfort is subjective, but people usually know it when they feel it. Eight-way hand-tied springs have a particular character: a soft landing followed by quiet resistance, then a gentle lift as the springs settle together.
It’s hard to describe without sounding faintly ridiculous — somewhere between a hug and a suspension bridge. The key thing is that the support is even. There are no hard ridges, no hollow middle, no noise. Just that sense of rightness you get from something engineered properly.
Springs this clever pop up in unexpected places.
Mattresses: luxury brands such as Vispring still hand-nest coils for the same reason — shared load, no sagging.
Classic cars: the double-wishbone suspension in a classic Aston Martin distributes weight through linked coils much like a sofa base.
Pianos: strings under tension interact across the frame to give an even tone — the musical version of even support.
Wherever things need to flex evenly and last forever, you’ll find the same principle. It’s nice to think that when you sit down on a Schplendid sofa, you’re sharing DNA with a Bentley, a Vispring and a Steinway.
What the cheaper way looks like
If you take the bottom off a typical mid-market sofa, you’ll see something else entirely: a handful of zig-zag or 'serpentine' springs - in the shape pictured above -stapled to the frame and covered with a sheet of foam or plastic fibre. They’re ok for a few years, then the metal starts to lose tension, the staples loosen, and you find yourself sitting in a hollow vaguely shaped like a person.
Zig-zags cost pennies and can be installed in minutes. They also work independently, not as a team. Sit in the middle, and only one or two take the strain, so they deform faster. Some manufacturers add layers of foam to disguise this for a while, but foam compresses too — and then it’s off to landfill.
We’d rather spend the money where it counts. Springs aren’t glamorous, but they’re the heart of the sofa. And if you’re going to sit on something for the next 30 years, it might as well have a proper skeleton.
Why we bother
Because it’s better. A properly hand-tied spring system costs us more and takes much longer to build than the quick-fix alternative, but it really does make all the difference. When you sit on a Schplendid sofa, you feel supported but not perched, cushioned but not engulfed. That’s the springs doing their job.
We sent our upholsterers on specialist training to revive the skill. “It’s the way the best sofas have been made for 200 years,” says Rohan. “It’s a dying art, but our guys take enormous pride in it.”
They also last basically forever. The steel can’t really fail unless abused. The jute ties can eventually stretch, but they can be retied. Plenty of 19th-century Howard sofas are still in service today. They were built before “planned obsolescence” became a business model. We’re trying, in our small way, to bring that real, durable quality back.
That’s it, really. Eight-way hand-tied springs are not a gimmick or a luxury extra; they’re the bit that makes the whole sofa work properly. They’re also a symbol of what we believe in: using real materials, doing things the right way, and building furniture that earns its keep for a lifetime.
A Schplendid Guide to Eight-Way Hand-Tied Springs: the Science and Art of Perfect Sofa Suspension
Everything you could possibly have ever wanted to know about sofa springs...
At Schplendid we do something that almost nobody else bothers with anymore: we make our sofas with eight-way hand tied springs.
You can read about why we’ve revived that lost art here (short answer: they make for absurdly comfortable and long-lasting sofas). But there’s actually a fascinating history behind sofa springs – if you like that sort of thing. Here’s a Schplendid guide to the history of bouncy comfort…
The secret under your seat
Most people never think about what’s going on beneath them when they sit down — which is probably for the best. But if you ever cut a Schplendid sofa in half (please don’t), you’d find something rather marvellous: a grid of steel coils lashed together with jute twine, like a Boy Scout project gone slightly mad.
The springs in the middle of the grid are tied in eight directions – front to back, side to side, and diagonally – so that when you sit on one, the others join in. It’s a sort of mechanical teamwork. As Rohan puts it, “When you compress one spring, the neighbours tied to it come down together. They work as a team.”
This old-fashioned bit of upholstery wizardry is what gives a proper sofa that deep, reassuring give – a bounce that feels alive rather than air-mattress bouncy. It’s also fiddly, time-consuming, and almost extinct, which of course makes us love it even more.
From Bows to Bentleys: A Short History of Springs
If you think springs are a modern invention, you’re about – oooh, six thousand years out. Anything elastic that stores and releases energy, from a bent bow to a catapult, technically counts as a spring. So the first “spring technology” was probably someone stringing a bit of animal gut across a stick and realising it could fling a rock at dinner. Humanity has been rebounding ever since.
By the Renaissance, springs had gone from hunting tools to pocket miracles. Leonardo da Vinci is credited with experimenting with coiled springs in his designs for firearms – an early attempt to make a pistol that could fire one-handed. Whether or not he succeeded is up for debate, but the idea stuck. Flat “leaf” springs powered locks, latches and early clocks, and by the 1600s Robert Hooke had written down the simple rule that governs them all: ut tensio, sic vis — “as the extension, so the force.” Hooke’s Law was the birth of spring science.
The real revolution came in the 18th century with carriage suspension. The French began fitting curved strips of steel (more “leaf springs”) to smooth the ride. In 1763, a British inventor named Richard Tredwell patented something new: a coiled spring for carriages (Patent No. 792). It was a simple but brilliant idea: a spiral of tempered metal that could flex in any direction and didn’t need greasing like the old leaf types.
Once steelmaking caught up in the 19th century, the coil spring took off. The first steel coil spring for seating was patented around 1857, and upholsterers quickly realised that a few rows of small coils could turn a chair from a wooden perch into something you might actually want to sit on. By the 1820s and 1830s, patents were appearing for sprung seats and mattresses, and by the later Victorian period the technique had become the hallmark of quality upholstery.
Furniture, carriages, railway seats – anything that involved both weight and wobble – all borrowed the same idea. When the motor car arrived, it naturally inherited the spring’s DNA. A 1920s Bentley suspension system is, in principle, the same as a Howard & Sons sofa base: a network of tempered steel coils sharing the load.
Then, inevitably, modernity struck. The Industrial Revolution gave us machines that could stamp, staple and stretch wire far faster than any human could tie it. Zig-zag springs appeared; comfort got quicker and cheaper; craftsmanship slowly exited stage left. By the mid-20th century, the eight-way hand-tied method had become a near-lost art — too slow for mass production, too invisible for marketing departments.
Until Schplendid came along, of course...
How the eight-way system works...
A good eight-way system starts with a strong wooden frame, webbed with straps (ours are made of jute). Onto that go rows of coiled steel springs, each one the same size and pitch. Then the upholsterer starts the laborious part: tying every spring to its neighbours — north, south, east, west, and the four diagonals in between.
The result is a kind of flexible lattice. Sit down, and your weight is shared across the grid. The springs yield together, absorb energy, and gently push back. There’s no single weak point, no saggy middle seat. The whole thing acts like a miniature suspension bridge under your backside.
Each tie has to be tensioned just right. Too tight, and you get trampoline. Too loose, and the sofa feels tired from day one. It’s a balancing act that depends entirely on the maker’s hands and judgement. You can’t automate that – though plenty have tried.
...And why it works (the science bit, in plain English)
Each coil is made from high-carbon tempered steel, the same family of alloys used in car suspensions. The metal is springy because its internal crystal structure is slightly stressed: bend it, and it wants to snap back into shape.
The geometry matters too. A narrower coil with more turns feels softer; a wider one with fewer turns feels firmer. The way they’re tied determines how the whole seat behaves. We can make the springs slightly firmer at the front (to stop you sliding forward) and softer at the back (to cradle the spine).
In engineering terms, you’re creating a multi-directional network of load distribution with built-in damping. Which is exactly as clever as it sounds, but you can just call it “comfy”.
Why eight-way springs feel different
Comfort is subjective, but people usually know it when they feel it. Eight-way hand-tied springs have a particular character: a soft landing followed by quiet resistance, then a gentle lift as the springs settle together.
It’s hard to describe without sounding faintly ridiculous — somewhere between a hug and a suspension bridge. The key thing is that the support is even. There are no hard ridges, no hollow middle, no noise. Just that sense of rightness you get from something engineered properly.
Springs this clever pop up in unexpected places.
Mattresses: luxury brands such as Vispring still hand-nest coils for the same reason — shared load, no sagging.
Classic cars: the double-wishbone suspension in a classic Aston Martin distributes weight through linked coils much like a sofa base.
Pianos: strings under tension interact across the frame to give an even tone — the musical version of even support.
Wherever things need to flex evenly and last forever, you’ll find the same principle. It’s nice to think that when you sit down on a Schplendid sofa, you’re sharing DNA with a Bentley, a Vispring and a Steinway.
What the cheaper way looks like
If you take the bottom off a typical mid-market sofa, you’ll see something else entirely: a handful of zig-zag or 'serpentine' springs - in the shape pictured above -stapled to the frame and covered with a sheet of foam or plastic fibre. They’re ok for a few years, then the metal starts to lose tension, the staples loosen, and you find yourself sitting in a hollow vaguely shaped like a person.
Zig-zags cost pennies and can be installed in minutes. They also work independently, not as a team. Sit in the middle, and only one or two take the strain, so they deform faster. Some manufacturers add layers of foam to disguise this for a while, but foam compresses too — and then it’s off to landfill.
We’d rather spend the money where it counts. Springs aren’t glamorous, but they’re the heart of the sofa. And if you’re going to sit on something for the next 30 years, it might as well have a proper skeleton.
Why we bother
Because it’s better. A properly hand-tied spring system costs us more and takes much longer to build than the quick-fix alternative, but it really does make all the difference. When you sit on a Schplendid sofa, you feel supported but not perched, cushioned but not engulfed. That’s the springs doing their job.
We sent our upholsterers on specialist training to revive the skill. “It’s the way the best sofas have been made for 200 years,” says Rohan. “It’s a dying art, but our guys take enormous pride in it.”
They also last basically forever. The steel can’t really fail unless abused. The jute ties can eventually stretch, but they can be retied. Plenty of 19th-century Howard sofas are still in service today. They were built before “planned obsolescence” became a business model. We’re trying, in our small way, to bring that real, durable quality back.
That’s it, really. Eight-way hand-tied springs are not a gimmick or a luxury extra; they’re the bit that makes the whole sofa work properly. They’re also a symbol of what we believe in: using real materials, doing things the right way, and building furniture that earns its keep for a lifetime.
Read more about Schplendid's sofa ingredients here.
See also:
Precisely-calibrated comfort: Why we use Eight-Way Hand-Tied Coil Springs in our sofas
A Schplendid Guide to Italian Linen: its history, science, craft and delights
A Schplendid Guide to Down: its history, science, uses and delights
The unique, radical pricing model that makes Schplendid sofas affordable