The character of the building was, of course, to be palatial. There were however but fragments of Gothic palaces to be found in England. Italian Gothic had not yet attracted much observation. The town-halls of Belgium occurred to him, and he went over to that country to see and to admire them, especially those of Brussels and Louvain. They recurred to him afterwards, as examples of visible roofs, and general enrichment. But at the time they did not affect his design, which was mainly “castellated” with embattled parapets, concealed roofs, and an absence of all spires. The great tower, one hundred feet square, was to be treated as a “keep;” the clock-tower differed little, except in size, from the same general character. With his great love of unity and regularity he might have desired a central tower,[95] but it must have been over the central hall, and there it would have been too far back to form a centre to the great river front, and half its height would have been concealed. He always thought that great towers should be seen from their parapet to their base; accordingly, he was content to place his towers in positions where they would form natural and prominent features, without interfering with each other, or with the great river front. Such were the views which dictated the great outlines of the prize design. He made countless variations, drawings literally by hundreds, as studies of its prominent features, in the course of its formation; but the main principles were deeply fixed in his mind, and to them he always returned. As soon as he was appointed to carry out the work, he was instructed to remodel his plan. More accommodation was needed, and the Government determined to extend the site southwards. This step had the additional advantage of enabling the architect to enlarge the courts, required to give light and air to so extensive a building. It was the first of many alterations, some undertaken with direct authority, others more or less on his own responsibility, with the strong feeling that they were real improvements, dictated by an “architectural necessity,” and that as such they must eventually be sanctioned. This willingness to accept responsibility was shown in the first change. The river line was not at right angles to the main approach through St. Stephen’s Hall. If both were strictly preserved, much distortion was inevitable. To diminish it as much as possible, he not only set back the line of the embankment at the southern end, but advanced it at the other end, near the bridge, so as to encroach on the river; and this he did, without consulting either the Conservators of the Thames or the Government. This bold step, sanctioned by its success, still left some remains of the objectionable distortion at the entrance from St. Stephen’s Hall into the central hall. There it still exists, but, owing to the octagonal form of the latter hall, and some contrivances of detail, it is hardly to be detected.