The thought must be measured and restricted as to time, so as to enable it to make the proper impression and produce a corresponding expression before another thought comes along crowding in upon the preceding one and in so doing blurring the impression made by the latter before it had been given the time to be expressed. If the necessary time is not granted for an impression to be made and for the expression thereof to obliterate the same, the premature flow of another thought, coming on top of the first, will make a new impression over the previous one, causing confusion and making a clear expression a matter of impossibility. Unless our professor, while standing in front of his blackboard demonstrating before his class, has a sponge in his hand, and before again writing in the same place wipes out that which he had written before, the new writing will not be of such a nature that it can be understood. The slate endures; but the thought and the writing are always new. Yet, when such writing is of an impressive nature, it is like that of a palimpsest; though apparently obliterated, its lines remain, and their meaning can be recalled to memory as often as the occasion may demand it.
The "muddle" of which I have spoken is oftentimes so great that no sound of any kind can ensue, the rhythmic flow of sound-producing streams having been disturbed and prevented from assuming the necessary shape for their formation into proper sound-waves by this hasty mode of thinking. The consequence is a hiatus in the natural flow of speech, which prevents the thought from materializing in the shape of the word intended to be spoken. This hiatus the victim of such precipitate mode of thinking generally attempts to bridge over by spasmodic efforts, which but serve to aggravate the situation, increasing, as they do, the disorder in the sound-producing lines.
Stuttering being caused by a disorder in these lines, the remedy is to again restore them to order. The disorder having been caused by a too hasty mode of thinking, superinduced, as a rule, by a desire not to stutter, or a fear of stuttering, the remedy lies in allaying this fear. The fear of stuttering, or the anxiety not to stutter, which obtains while the speaker is producing thought, itself being thought, and coming on top of the thought intended to be uttered, brings about, or at least aggravates, the very difficulty he was trying to overcome. Mere thought may wander off and again return to its theme, unrestrained, and without causing disturbance; but thought which is to be vocally uttered must strictly adhere to its subject. There is no impression to be made by the former which must remain until it is released by vocal sound; impression and expression being almost simultaneous. In place of making a spasmodic effort, therefore, the stutterer should endeavor to be calm, and to then calmly think the word or sentence over again which has become a stumbling-block in his way. After doing so, he will have no trouble uttering it.
The fact that stutterers experience no difficulty in singing is a proof of the correctness of these assertions. While singing, the performer's streams of life and organs of speech are all tuned to one harmonious measure. His frame of mind being securely in accord with his theme, his thought, devoid of fear, flows evenly along with his song. There is no occasion for haste or trepidation in this instance,—there cannot be, haste being the opposite to and the enemy of harmony, the latter meaning a continuous return of the same measure and the same mode of breathing, the former irregularity and disorder in the mode of breathing.
Besides, song, belonging to the pharynx, is spiritual; it is of our inner nature, and therefore restful and continuous. While speech, which belongs to the oral cavity, is material; it is of our outer nature, and therefore subject to every impression, influence, and consequent change. Elocution, declamation, or recitation, on the other hand, partake of both our inner and our outer nature. They belong in part to the pharynx and in part to the oral cavity.
Experiments may be made by means of making these respective parts rigid which will establish the correctness of these assertions.
These experiments can also be made by the application of mechanical pressure. When pressing your hand or fingers against your throat you will be unable to speak, though it will not prevent you from singing. By pressing them against the back of your neck you will be unable to sing, though you may speak. By pressing them against either side of your neck you will be unable to recite, though you may both speak and sing. The slightest pressure, even, will produce these results. Let me remark, however, that unless the thought of the performance accompanies it, a mere mechanical pressure will not suffice.
That thought, improperly exercised, is the cause of stuttering or stammering, obtains from the fact, that the utterance of the singer, elocutionist or actor, being a matter of memory, and not of original thought, is not subject to these troubles; though the utterance of the same persons while speaking, and in so doing, thinking, may be subject thereto.
Not appreciating its significance, I used to laugh with everybody else at the anecdote of a stuttering boy in an apothecary shop, who had been sent down after some article in the cellar. Returning, pale, trembling, and stammering, his master cried out, "Sing, sing!" whereupon he delivered himself thus: