When the architect Sir John Vanbrugh arrived on the Northumbrian coast to survey the site of what was to be hailed as his masterpiece, he already had two grand projects to his credit. He had completed the magnificent Castle Howard stately home in Yorkshire and had also designed Blenheim Palace. Now he was to take up the commission to create Seaton Delaval Hall for Admiral George Delaval between what is now Whitley Bay and Blyth. He produced a central block, flanked by arcaded wings, which would take 10 years to build from 1718 on the site of the Delavals' Tudor and Jacobean home and be considered one of the great feats of 18th Century architecture. As he walked around the site Vanbrugh had behind him a life as a soldier, dramatist and adventurer which could have come from the pages of a novel. But he was no less colourful than the Delavals themselves. Take Sir Francis Delaval. Three times an MP, he organised entertainment on a grand scale at Seaton Delaval and in London in the mid-18th Century. He produced Shakespeare's Othello and staged it at Drury Lane Theatre with himself in the title role and family members in the cast. The House of Commons adjourned early so MPs could attend. An original invitation to the performance is on show to Seaton Delaval Hall visitors. Sir Francis's lifestyle meant he ran up considerable debts and in 1758 he enlisted as a volunteer in the army at a time of conflict with France. In an assault on the St Malo area, he leapt from a boat and swam half a mile to shore so that he would be the first to reach French soil. Today, Seaton Delaval Hall is the home of Lord and Lady Hastings and has a history as dramatic as that of its owners. It suffered two serious fires, in 1752 and 1822, which left the place roofless for 40 years. Partly restored in 1862-63, it was requisitioned in the First World War, was damaged by troops and taken over again by the military in the next war. Lord Hastings began restoration in 1950 and speaks of seeing the home of the Delavals "arise again almost like the phoenix from the ashes". It was in the West Wing in 1960 that his son was born. It was the first time it had known such an event since Lord Hastings's ancestress Rhoda Delaval gave birth to a son in 1756. Visitors to the main block can see the imprint of the 1822 blaze. From wall niches what's left of six statues representing music, painting, sculpture, architecture, geography and astronomy gaze down on the flooring of alternate diamonds of marble and slate. Beneath is a vast, vaulted network of former wine and beer cellars and an area for horse delivery vehicles. Winding staircases lead up towers on either side. One room which escaped the worst of the fire was panelled in Honduras mahogany and is lined with portraits. In another room are fascinating documents relating to the Delavals' history. There is notice of George Delaval's appointment to the rank of Rear Admiral in 1718 and letters from Queen Anne relating to his role as envoy to Portugal in 1701 and Morocco in 1707. There are letters from Queen Elizabeth I to Robert Delaval in 1595 and from Charles II granting Ralph Delaval a free pardon for his actions in the English Civil War. Other documents concern Seaton Delaval Volunteers at the time of the war with France in 1798 and a list of local people to be evacuated in the event of invasion. Also on show is Lady Delaval's recipe book of 1786. Visitors pass through the central hall to the saloon and the gardens, overlooked by the impressive south portico. There is a weeping ash, mentioned in Rhoda Delaval's letters and now almost 280 years old. And there aren't many - if any - grand houses where the stables are a highlight. But here, the superb stone stables were built with grandeur in 1768 by Sir Francis Delaval. Names of the horses which occupied the stalls, separated by ashlar stone partitions, are still in place: Zephyrus, Hercules, Julius, Regulus, Admiral, Peacock, Chance, Prince, Pilot, Fox, Captain, and Steady. It is rare that the identities of horses come down to posterity. But then at Seaton Delaval Hall the exception was frequently the rule. Page 2: Remarkable family tales | 
