Mrigadayavan Palace: A King’s Seaside Retreat

The Beach and Its History
There is something rather special about Mrigadayavan Palace. Standing among the trees right beside the Gulf of Thailand, its long wooden walkways and elegant pavilions seem to belong to a gentler, less hurried age.
The buildings are raised above the ground, connected by covered corridors, and painted in soft shades of yellow and blue. There is a lightness about the place: it doesn’t have the imposing grandeur we might expect of a royal palace. Instead, it feels almost like a collection of elegant seaside houses, designed to make the most of the breeze and the view.
Most websites will tell that it’s in Hua Hin, but it isn’t. This beautiful palace is inside an army camp in Cha-am in Petchaburi province, about 17-18 kilometers north of Hua Hin, which is in Prachuapkirikhan province.
The area between Cha-am and Hua Hin would soon become a fashionable seaside destination, attracting members of the royal family and Bangkok’s well-to-do society. But it wasn’t the only stretch of coastline to catch the royal eye. Chao Samran, a little further north, not far from Petchaburi city, had already attracted royal attention, and Rama VI had a seaside palace constructed there.
That earlier residence would eventually play an important part in the story of Mrigadayavan Palace. It was not simply abandoned and forgotten. Its dismantling and the reported reuse of its timber would help give the new palace a rather unusual beginning.
The King Who Went Looking for Sea Air
King Vajiravudh, Rama VI, was born on 1 January 1881. He became king in 1910, following the death of his father, King Chulalongkorn, Rama V.

He was an interesting and rather unusual monarch. Educated in Britain, he attended the Royal Military College at Sandhurst before continuing his studies at Christ Church College, Oxford. His education gave him a strong interest in Western literature, theater and military organisation, but he was equally conscious of his responsibilities as King of Siam.
His reign also brought significant changes to Siamese society. The Surname Act of 1913 required families to adopt hereditary surnames, helping to establish a more systematic system of personal identification. Chulalongkorn University was founded in 1917, and the Compulsory Education Act of 1921 extended the state’s responsibility for elementary education.
Not all his reforms were universally popular. His attempts to modernise aspects of Siamese society, and his efforts to restrict activities such as gambling, met resistance in some quarters. He was a king with a strong sense of how he wanted his country to develop, although, as with any period of rapid change,not everyone shared his enthusiasm.
There was also a more personal side to the King. He was a man of considerable literary imagination, with a deep interest in history, culture and the arts. His health, however, was becoming a growing concern.
Accounts of the palace’s origins associate his search for a seaside retreat as a result of medical advice, that he should spend more time by the ocean. The sea air was thought to be beneficial, and the quieter surroundings of the Phetchaburi coast offered a welcome change from the demands of Bangkok.
Whether the decision was prompted entirely by his health, or whether he was also attracted by the peace and beauty of the coastline, the result was the same. The King wanted somewhere away from the capital where he could rest and enjoy the sea.
He had already experienced the coast at Chao Samran, where a royal residence had been built. But that was not to be the final answer. A new palace was planned further south, at a place where the sea breeze, the surrounding woodland and the natural landscape could all be enjoyed.
It would be a very different sort of royal residence: open, airy and designed around the climate rather than against it. And, rather unusually, it would have a past built into its very structure.
Building a Palace Out of a Palace
The decision to build a new royal residence on the coast brought an interesting twist to the story. The earlier palace at Chao Samran was dismantled, and its timber is widely reported to have been transported south for use in the new building.
It is a rather appealing idea: that one royal seaside residence should, in a sense, give birth to another. The precise extent of the reused timber is not entirely clear from the surviving accounts, so it is probably best not to imagine that every piece of the new palace came from the old one. But the connection between the two buildings is an established part of the palace’s history.
Construction at the new site began in 1923 and was completed in 1924. King Rama VI was closely involved in the design, while the architectural plans and their development were entrusted to an Italian architect, Ercole Pietro Manfredi (1883–1973).
Manfredi was part of the group of European architects and artists who contributed to the changing architectural landscape of Siam during the early twentieth century. He had also worked with fellow Italian architect Annibale Rigotti on the design of Villa Norasingh, now known as Government House in Bangkok. Their work helped introduce European architectural ideas into buildings that were being adapted to Siamese tastes and conditions.
At Mrigadayavan, however, the result was something very different from a conventional European-style palace.
The complex consists of sixteen principal buildings, constructed largely of teak and raised above the ground on concrete supports. They are connected by long, covered wooden walkways, allowing people to move between the different sections without having to step outside into the sun or rain.

The buildings were designed to make the most of the tropical climate. High ceilings allowed warm air to rise, while generous windows, shutters and open verandas encouraged natural ventilation. The raised floors helped air circulate beneath the buildings, and the covered corridors provided shade while linking the various living and working areas.
It was a practical approach to comfort, but it also gave the palace much of its distinctive character. Rather than one enormous structure, it feels like a small wooden village, with rooms and pavilions arranged along the walkways.
The soft yellow and blue colours add to that impression. They give the buildings a gentle, almost understated appearance, quite unlike the more imposing colours and decoration often associated with royal architecture. The colours are now an important part of the palace’s familiar appearance, although there’s no historical evidence for the claim that they were specifically chosen to reflect heat or reduce glare.
There is a pleasing simplicity to the whole design. The palace seems to sit lightly within its surroundings, with the buildings, trees and sea breeze all part of the same environment. It was a place intended for relaxation rather than ceremony, and that difference is apparent almost everywhere you look.
The Real Name And The Romantic One
But perhaps the most intriguing part of the story is the name the King chose for his new residence. It takes us away from architecture and into a rather more personal world of symbolism, affection and hope.
The name given to the new palace was Mrigadayavan, often translated as Deer Park. It is a name with a distinctly Buddhist association, and one that seems particularly appropriate for a peaceful retreat surrounded by trees and nature.
The Deer Park at Sarnath, in northern India, is traditionally identified as the place where the Buddha delivered his first sermon after attaining enlightenment. It is an important site in Buddhist history, and the name Mrigadava is associated with the deer park or forest there.
Whether King Rama VI had that particular connection in mind when naming his seaside residence is not something I’ve been able to establish conclusively. But, the association gives the name an added significance, especially for a monarch who took a considerable interest in Buddhist thought and Siamese cultural traditions.
But there is another name by which the palace is often remembered: “The Palace of Love and Hope”. It is a much more romantic title, and one that has become closely associated with the personal story of Rama VI and his hopes for an heir.
The King had married Queen Indrasakdi Sachi, and there were hopes that she would provide him with a son. Accounts of the period talk of pregnancies that did not result in a surviving child. Later, the King married Suvadhana, who would eventually give birth to his only child.
It is important not to confuse the two women, as some retellings of the story do. Queen Suvadhana was the mother of Princess Bejaratana, while Queen Indrasakdi Sachi was another important figure in the King’s personal life.
Rama VI had no surviving son. The hope of having a male heir was therefore a deeply personal matter, as well as one with implications for the future of the monarchy.
The nickname Palace of Love and Hope is often explained through this background: a seaside residence associated with the King’s affection for his queens and his hope that one of them would provide the successor he wanted.

It is a touching interpretation, although the origin of the nickname, and whether it was bestowed by the King himself, remain uncertain. I think it’s best understood as the romantic meaning that later generations have attached to the palace, rather than of his intentions.
There is, however, no uncertainty about the final chapter of the story.
On 24 November 1925, Queen Suvadhana gave birth to a daughter, Princess Bejaratana. The following day, the newborn princess was presented to her father
King Vajiravudh, who sadly died on that same day, 25 November 1925, aged just 44.
His younger brother succeeded him as King Prajadhipok, Rama VII. The little princess, who had arrived only a day before her father’s death, would grow up to live a long life of her own, becoming a much-loved member of the Royal Family.
And so the palace acquired a poignancy that perhaps no architect could have intended. It had been built as a peaceful retreat for a king whose reign was approaching its end. Its name came to be associated with love, family and the hope of a future that was not to unfold as he might have wished.
The King had built a beautiful seaside home, but he was not destined to enjoy it for very long.
What Happened After the King Died
Following the death of King Rama VI in November 1925, Mrigadayavan Palace ceased to be the royal seaside retreat for which it had been built. Its period of use by the King had been remarkably brief, and the palace gradually fell into a quieter chapter of its existence.
In 1969, during the reign of King Bhumibol Adulyadej, Rama IX, the palace grounds were placed at the disposal of the Border Patrol Police, who used the compound for their activities until 1992. Their presence meant that the buildings and surrounding grounds continued to have a purpose, even though they were no longer serving as the King’s seaside residence.
The palace was subsequently recognised as an important part of Thailand’s architectural and cultural heritage. It was registered as a national historic monument in 1981, and in 1993 the Mrigadayavan Palace Foundation was established under royal patronage, with the aim of preserving and maintaining the site.
Conservation and restoration work has taken place over the years, including major restoration projects beginning in 2011. In 2017, King Maha Vajiralongkorn, Rama X, granted the Foundation a land title deed for its continued use and management of the property, according to university research documenting the palace’s restoration history.
Today, the Foundation is responsible for the palace’s care and conservation. It is managed as a historical learning center and visitor attraction, rather than as an active royal residence. Some areas may be restricted from time to time, but public access is still part of the site’s present purpose.
It is worth checking the Foundation’s current visitor arrangements before setting out, as opening days and access conditions can change. The palace is a historic wooden structure, and its preservation has to take priority over unrestricted access.
Walking through Mrigadayavan today, it is easy to appreciate why the King wanted a retreat here. The long corridors draw the eye towards the trees and the sea, the raised buildings catch the breeze, and the whole place has an atmosphere quite unlike that of a conventional royal palace.
There is no overwhelming display of grandeur. Instead, there is an elegance in the simplicity of the design, and a sense of calm that seems to have survived.
Perhaps that is what makes the story so appealing. Mrigadayavan was built for a king who wanted somewhere peaceful to escape the pressures of royal life. It was intended to be a place of comfort, affection and hope for the future. Yet the King died just a short time after its completion, leaving behind a palace that would outlive him by generations.
The name “Palace of Love and Hope” may owe something to later romantic interpretation, but it seems an appropriate description all the same. Today, the palace is more than a beautiful example of early 20th century Thai architecture. It is a reminder of a King’s personal world, of a changing country, and of the rather fragile nature of the hopes we build around the future.
And perhaps that is why, among all the grander and more imposing royal buildings in Thailand, this modest seaside palace leaves such a lasting impression.
A palace built for a king, preserved for the generations that followed.
How To Get There
The Palace is on Highway 4280 off the main southbound Phetkasem Highway (Highway 4), just a short drive south of Cha-am town, Petchaburi province. The entrance is via the Rama 6 Army base, but the palace is only open Friday-Sunday, but you should confirm opening times and admission fees in advance. Phone:032 508 444 Website: https://mrigadayavan.or.th (Facebook page).