Aristotle's Problems

Surely because those things covered in filth and mold turn more yellow. However, hairs that have been dried out, as the moisture within them departs, turn white. Oil, therefore, prevents this, for they are dried out very little; nor does it happen that the matter stands similarly in this case, so that we might compare hairs that have been removed with those that still thrive upon the living body. For once shorn, they are flat.

Why do the softer hairs of cattle grow back coarser when cut, but those of men grow back harsher? Surely because the hairs of cattle become denser the longer they have grown; for the surrounding air, on account of the weakness of the heat, cools that which is within them, and the more so the further they are removed from their own source of heat. Whence, once grown, they possess more heat on account of their thickness; but because they dry out considerably, they become thinner as they flow, unless something prevents them from still being produced from growth.

Why do men grow gray most quickly at the temples, but do not become bald there, although it would seem that either neither or both ought to occur? Surely because grayness arises from the quality of the nutriment distributed into the hairs, but baldness from the quantity. For when the nutriment has been cooled, it does not provide for growth, just as trees shed their leaves in winter when the nutriment has become cold and, as it were, congealed; and when only a small amount is supplied, it is powerless to nourish. But grayness comes from wasting nutriment; it rots, indeed, when it has drawn in what is less concocted. Or is the cause not the same for both, wherefore they come neither at the same time nor in the same places? This consideration is altogether more natural, or more suited to the problem: the temples are in the midst of many and dense veins, whence they also attain heat, so that nutriment does not fail them; but because a great deal of nutriment is present at once, and especially in advanced age it cannot be concocted, it consequently rots. From this grayness arises, just as mucus arises from rotted moisture in the nostrils. For not all things turn black when rotted; wherefore the comic poet also rightly says of scopsas: old age has hairs devoted to wasting.

Why does hair fall out not during illnesses, but after illnesses? Surely because they then have nutriment, namely from the surplus; but after diseases this is meager because it is necessary for the body to be nourished. The incoming nutriment, going toward that which restores nature, does not bring forth the hairs, but is consumed first on account of the inanition.

Why does the forehead of the head go bald, but not the back of the head, or at least less so? Surely because there is no superfluity in the back of the head, for the place is empty and dry. The forehead, however, is full on account of the brain. In whomsoever, therefore, a cold superfluity is collected there, because it is detained in that same place by the heat and does not concoct, it does not nourish the hairs, and they consequently fall out. The back of the head, however, does not have this sort of digestion, or less so, for the reason stated.

Why do the hairs in the armpits and on the pubes grow and turn gray less than those which break out from the head? Surely because the greatest and most principal hairs are those which, more than others, approach the head; for on account of the proximity of the nutriment, they most greatly resolve themselves. They therefore rightly grow out more than the rest which are on the chin.

Why are lice generated most especially in the head? Surely because animals are naturally inclined to be produced where there is a superfluity of moisture and heat; furthermore, it also has pores. Now, the head of the young is moist and hot, and in it the pores are widest. This can be conjectured even from the fact that the hairs there are thickest. Consequently, it has both the means by which the animal is formed and the place where it may live.

Why do men speak with a deeper voice from drinking, and vomiting, and in the cold, or when the throat is obstructed by phlegm? For in some, vomiting or drinking draws down the distillation; in others, however, the state of the weather does so; consequently, a heavier expulsion of breath is produced. That which is very heavy is also slow.

Why do we hear a deep voice more clearly nearby, but less so from a distance? Surely because a deeper voice moves more air, but it does so in close proximity; whence it happens that we hear less from a distance, and accordingly it does not penetrate as far. Nearby, however, it is heard more, because the motion of the air is greater.

Why does a seven-month infant not produce a voice, but a nine-month one does when first brought forth? Is it because the most distinct voice is perfected in men, which we may conjecture from the fact that when they have already grown, they mutter and stammer? Or is it because nine-month infants have a perfected birth? Consequently, some have already attained their nature, while others have not. In the imperfect, therefore, as a general rule, nothing perfect can exist; but it will be present in the perfect. And yet seven-month infants are inferior for that same reason; that they are indeed very imperfect and weak is clear even from the fact that they are wrapped in woolen bandages.

Why is the voice the last thing to be perfected among all the faculties of those who speak? Surely because it has manifold differences and species. Other animals produce either nothing that can be described or very few things; but that which is most diverse and has the most differences cannot be perfected except in a very long and extended time.

Why do those contending produce a deep voice, but those fearing a shrill one? Surely because in those fearing, the place which is in the precordia grows cold as the heat seeks the lower parts; and accordingly they move little air, for strength is in the heat. In the former, however, the heat is raised up, as they are suffused with shame; for they contend on account of shame; and in the shameful, the heat is carried upward to the face. This is clear even from the fact that they turn more red; it distills, therefore, and makes the air thick as it sounds out and cries out. Such air is thrust out slowly, and that which is slow in the voice is deep.