Dream Nasal

Last night Haydn appeared to me in a dream, wearing red trousers.

Hey! I said to him, in the dream. Are you German?

Nein! he replied. I am Austrian. But do not worry, I speak good English.

Sorry, I said. It was your red trousers. As you're here, perhaps you might explain to me about fifths.

I do not think it would do any good, he replied. I have come to you in a dream for a musical purpose, yes, but a more general one. I wish to explain to you why I was popular and why I still am.

But I already know, I said, because I have googled you.

Have you indeed. What do they say of me?

They say you were popular because you had learned to please and delight a prince. That you had a sense of humour, and were famous for your rollicking finales.

That is all?

No, no. They say you developed the classical forms with your fluidity of phrasing, and your use of classic counterpoint.

Very good. All that is true. Did they say anything about my personal life?

They said you married the sister of the woman you loved, and were unhappy, and that you suffered from nasal polyposis.

Nasal polyposis, he sniffed, is that what they call it?

Yes, it was a very agonising and debilitating disease in the 18th century.

Tell me about it! said Haydn. Is there a cure?

Not a cure. Nowadays they treat it with steroids, and sometimes surgery. The polyps may grow back though.

Well, well, said Haydn. Never mind. That gives me an idea for a rather amusing tune, with double stops.