He was the "Uncle of Europe," a man who loved high stakes, fast horses, and even faster company. But behind the formal portraits of King Edward VII lies a piece of furniture so specific, so technically audacious, and so unashamedly practical that it has become the stuff of museum legend. We’re talking about the King Edward VII love chair, or as the French more elegantly call it, the siège d’amour. It isn't just a chair. Honestly, it's a mechanical solution to a very human problem: how a man of significant girth and royal stature could entertain two women at once without crushing them or, frankly, himself.
The Problem of the Prince of Wales
Let’s be real here. By the late 1800s, "Bertie"—as his family called him—wasn't exactly a marathon runner. He was a man of huge appetites. He famously ate twelve-course meals. He smoked twelve cigars and twenty cigarettes a day. His waistline was legendary, reportedly reaching 48 inches. Yet, his appetite for the "sport of kings" (and we don't mean horse racing) never waned.
He spent a huge chunk of his life waiting for his mother, Queen Victoria, to finally vacate the throne. To pass the time, he frequented Paris. Specifically, he frequented Le Chabanais. This wasn't just some back-alley brothel; it was the most luxurious "maison close" in the world, featuring rooms themed like Moorish palaces and Roman grottos. But even the best rooms had a flaw. Standard beds weren't cutting it for a future king who weighed over 250 pounds and wanted to involve multiple partners in his afternoon "appointments."
Engineering the Siege d'Amour
In 1890, the Prince commissioned a specialist. He went to Soubrier, a renowned furniture maker on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine. He didn't just want a comfy velvet seat. He wanted a machine.
The resulting King Edward VII love chair is a wild-looking contraption. Imagine a chaise longue that had a head-on collision with a velvet-covered step ladder. It features two levels. There are stirrups. Yes, actual metal stirrups, tucked away like something you’d see in a Victorian doctor’s office, but far more upholstered.
The design allowed the King to sit or lie in a way that supported his massive weight while giving him access to... well, everything. The lower level was for one lady, the upper for another, or vice versa, depending on the choreography of the day. It’s a masterpiece of mahogany and blue-and-gold velvet. It’s weird. It’s brilliant. It’s incredibly specific.
Where Is the Chair Now?
People often ask if the chair was burned when he became King. Nope. It stayed at Le Chabanais until the brothel was shuttered in 1946 following the "Loi Marthe Richard," which outlawed brothels in France.
The Soubrier family actually got the chair back. They still have it. Well, they have the original. You can find it in their private collection in Paris, though it occasionally makes its way to museum exhibitions, like the "Splendours and Miseries" show at the Musée d'Orsay.
There is a second one, though. A replica? A "backup"? It's often debated. One version ended up in the Museum of Sex in Prague. If you ever visit, you can see just how narrow those stirrups are. It makes you realize that while the King was a large man, the mechanics of Victorian-era "leisure" required a surprising amount of precision.
Why It Still Fascinates Us
The King Edward VII love chair matters because it strips away the stuffy, buttoned-up facade of the Victorian and Edwardian eras. We like to think of them as repressed. They weren't. They just had better furniture for their vices.
Actually, the chair represents a peak in bespoke craftsmanship. Today, we have mass-produced everything. Back then, if you were the future King of England and you had a specific physical limitation regarding your extracurricular activities, you didn't just "make do." You hired the best cabinet maker in France to build a mahogany scaffold for your pleasure.
Misconceptions About the "Love Seat"
Don't confuse this with a standard Victorian love seat or "courting chair." Those S-shaped chairs (also called "tête-à-tête") were designed for talking. They kept a modest wooden barrier between a couple's bodies while allowing them to look at each other.
The King Edward VII love chair had the opposite goal. It was designed to remove barriers. It wasn't for courting; it was for the finish line.
Critics at the time—and even some historians today—view Edward as a frivolous playboy. But there's a certain genius in the chair. It shows a man who was comfortable in his skin, even if there was quite a lot of it. He was a diplomat who helped forge the Entente Cordiale with France, and perhaps his deep "personal" appreciation for French craftsmanship played a small role in that geopolitical success.
Exploring the Technical Details
If you look closely at the Soubrier original, the joinery is impeccable. It had to be. If a chair collapses under the heir to the British throne while he’s in a "precarious" position, that’s an international incident.
- The Stirrups: These were retractable. They weren't just for show; they provided leverage.
- The Padding: Extra-thick horsehair stuffing was used to prevent bruising.
- The Angle: The slope of the main "slide" was calculated to assist a man who couldn't easily support his own torso for long periods.
It’s basically an early version of ergonomic design, just applied to a very different kind of "workstation."
Seeing It for Yourself
You can't just walk into a shop and buy a King Edward VII love chair today, at least not an authentic one. However, the legacy of Soubrier continues. They are still in business, though they mostly rent furniture to film sets now.
If you're a history buff, the best way to see it is to track the moving exhibitions of the Musée d'Orsay or visit the Museum of Sex in Prague. Just don't expect to be allowed to sit on it. The velvet is over 130 years old, and honestly, it’s seen enough action for three lifetimes.
Next Steps for the Curious
If you want to dive deeper into the world of "Bertie" and his Parisian exploits, you should look into the history of Le Chabanais. It was the most expensive building in Paris at the time of its construction, and the "Moorish Room" alone cost a fortune.
For those interested in the furniture itself, research the Soubrier collection. They remain one of the most important families in French furniture history. You’ll find that the love chair is just one of many "specialty" items they created for the elite of the Belle Époque.
Lastly, check out the book Edward VII: The Play Prince by Nicholas Ennos. It gives a much more rounded view of the man's life beyond the chair, though the chair remains his most interesting contribution to the world of interior design.
