Yet even the greatest composers cannot always command new thoughts at
will, and it is therefore of interest to note what devices some of
them resorted to rouse their dormant faculties. Weber's only pupil,
Sir Julius Benedict, relates that Weber spent many mornings in
"learning by heart the words of 'Euryanthe,' which he studied until he
made them a portion of himself, his own creation, as it were. His
genius would sometimes lie dormant during his frequent repetitions of
the words, and then the idea of a whole musical piece would flash
upon his mind, like the bursting of light into darkness."

I have already referred to the manner in which Weber, while composing
certain parts of the "Freischütz," got his imagination into the proper
state of creative frenzy by picturing to himself his bride as if she
were singing new arias for him. Now, in one of Wagner's essays there
is a curious passage which seems to indicate that Wagner habitually
conjured his characters before his mental vision and made them sing to
him, as it were, his original melodies. He advises a young composer
who wishes to follow his example never to select a dramatic character
for whom he does not entertain a warm interest. "He should divest him
of all theatrical apparel," he continues, "and then imagine him in a
dim light, where he can only see the expression of his eyes. If these
speak to him, the figure itself is liable presently to make a
movement, which will perhaps alarm him--but to which he must submit;
at last the phantom's lips tremble, it opens its mouth, and a
supernatural voice tells him something that is entirely real, entirely
tangible, but at the same time so extraordinary (similar, for
instance, to what the ghostly statue, or the page _Cherubin_ told
Mozart) that it arouses him from his dream. The vision has
disappeared; but his inner ear continues to hear; an idea has