He knew from the beginning that he had a large order. In addition to the topmost figures on the outside of the chapel there were larger, more detailed ones of the Virgin, the boy Christ, two saints and two angels. About the inside were any number of historic church dignitaries, bishops and saints. And there was a concourse of other symbolic figures in the King and St. Columbia chapels. Altogether there were twenty life-size statues outside and about seventy-five smaller ones inside. It has been pointed out by one shrewd observer that the chances for disagreement between the sculptor and the architects and committee members were virtually unlimited. Heins and Lafarge, the original architects, had listened to discussions ten years before any of the building was started. They had listened to the reports of sundry committees who never came to them with anything but grief. And, if they were like other men, they must have become fairly callous and a little deaf to each new sound of woe. G. L. Heins, State Architect and a member of the firm that had designed St. John’s, seemed to have some doubts about Borglum. It is not quite clear whether he thought the sculptor too headstrong or too argumentative. Gutzon wrote to him a singularly polite letter at the beginning of his commission, outlining the Borglum theories of ecclesiastical art. And by that nobody could have been offended. “There it will stand to praise or damn us,” Gutzon said, “not so much concerned whether we have been wise or not, but whether we have been sincere or not.” Heins replied to that but, unfortunately, his letter has been mislaid. One gathers the purport from the sculptor’s answer. Gutzon wrote: I agree with you about making the figures as archaic as possible. Still, if a little of the unstudied natural charm that was creeping into sculpture about the time of Donatello should appear in the figures of Christ, the Virgin and the two saints, I think that the gain in real beauty would be a great advantage. It will be interesting to hit upon a character of interpretation in the sculpture of this great church that will be at once religious in the best sense, profiting even by the mannerisms of the Middle Ages, yet clearly a distinct product of the larger, modern view. The sculpture should be what I feel you are making your architecture, no slavish interpretation of what has preceded, but an intelligent adaptation of what has proved best, not forgetting the large human view that our western civilization, in its best moments, holds in all matters religious. That seems to have ended the architect’s worries, although the sculptor appears to have had plenty left. Shortly thereafter a visiting English architect, E. W. Hudson, wrote this in the journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects: