Donald Macleod explores the bitter final years of Hector Berlioz, when, troubled by ill health and a continued poor reception for his music in France he was moved to write in his Memoirs: "I am alone. My contempt for the folly and baseness of mankind, my hatred of its atrocious cruelty, have never been so intense. And I say hourly to death: 'When you will.' Why does he delay?". Show less