In his diary stands the terse sentence, “Composed the little snippet ‘Träumerei’ [‘Reverie’].” The next day he wrote: “In the evening again Kinderszene in F major, which strikes me as very pretty. My sweetheart makes me so blissful, by the way, that I need not even mention here that I return home no later than nine every evening.” He wrote her, “I have learned that tension and longing for something inspires me just as much as imagination, as was again the case over the last few days, when I composed whole books full—whimsical, wild, and even genial—while I was waiting for a letter from you. You will be surprised when you finally play it: lately I often feel like I am exploding with music. And I don’t forget what I have composed. Perhaps an echo of your words when you wrote me, ‘I sometimes seemed to you like a child.’ In short, it was as if I were clothed in wings when I wrote the thirty droll little things, of which I selected about twelve and named them ‘Kinderszenen’ [Scenes of Childhood, op. 15].”  “The Kinderszenen will be ready at your arrival; I like them very much, and they make quite an impression when I perform them, particularly on me.”

mbasting@t-online.de