Since the Revolution in Paris the whole tenor in Albert’s life had changed. He had hung up his lyre and gripped the sword. The Revolution had made him forget his resolution to devote the rest of his life to his art. He had thrown himself into the maelstrom of political activities and fought mercilessly. He had decided upon a mission in life. To write sweet songs was not enough, he had determined. He must do his share in the struggle for the liberation of man, mental as well as physical liberation. He was fighting the _Junkers_ and the priests—the _Adel und Pfaffenherrschaft_—with telling effect. The articles he had written since he fled from Germany stirred the people at home even more than while he was amongst them. Yes, he must fight for the liberation of man! Instead of the Bible and Homer he was hugging to his breast Jean Jacques Rousseau’s work. He realized that France was at present the cradle of Liberty as Judea of old was the cradle of Faith. How could he really sing with the rattling of prisoners’ chains in his ears? The course of one’s life is fixed at one’s very birth, and strive as one might the given course must be followed. Albert felt as if an invisible hand was directing his course, a forceful, dominating hand. Free will? There was no free will. He often thought of the allegory of Jonah fleeing to Tarsish. Poor Jonah believed in free will but the whale taught him a different lesson. “Arise, go unto Ninevah, that great city, and preach unto it the preaching that I bid thee.” Everyone must preach the preaching that is bidden him. However, at times he turned to the Prophets and drank from the ever fresh waters of their deep wells. And the Jesuits in Munich and the _Junkers_ in Berlin were pointing to his blasphemy! So did the ancient priests and the nobles of old Judea call their prophets scoffers and blasphemers. It is ever thus, Albert Zorn mused with sublime contempt in his heart, one must be crucified in order to save the world.