Snell's law — where it appears
Named by 25 essays across 5 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The bend at the boundary, and what it is really about
Light changes direction when it changes speed. Snell's law is the geometry of that statement, and it can be derived without knowing anything about light at all.
The angle past which light cannot leave
Snell's law asks for the sine of an angle greater than one, and no such angle exists. What happens instead is a perfect mirror made out of nothing but a change of speed.
The angle the rainbow has to be, and why nobody chose it
A rainbow is at forty-two degrees because a function has a minimum there. Nothing about water, light or weather picks the number — it falls out of running Snell's law three times through a sphere.
The direction of the shaking, and the filter that only asks about it
A wave that travels one way can still shake in any direction across that way. Light does, most of it shakes in all of them at once, and a sheet of plastic can ask which.
The path that does not change
Reflection, refraction and the angle of the rainbow are not three laws. They are one condition — that the optical path length is stationary — and the word stationary rather than shortest is the whole of what makes an elliptical mirror and a rainbow the same statement.
Every front is a source
Treat each point of a wavefront as though it were a little source of its own, and take the envelope of what they produce. That one rule gives straight-line propagation, reflection, Snell's law and diffraction — and its most famous failure is what told everyone what was missing from it.
The angle at which reflection picks a side
At one angle of incidence, a water surface reflects no light at all of one polarisation. The Fresnel algebra says so, and says nothing about why. The reason is that the reflected ray would have to leave along the axis of the charges radiating it — and a shaking charge sends nothing along the direction it shakes in.
The ray that bends without a surface
Snell's law is about a boundary, and light bends in air where there is no boundary anywhere. Let the index vary continuously and the law of angles becomes a differential equation — one that carries a conserved quantity, forbids the ray from reaching certain heights, and turns a hot road into a mirror a hundred metres long.
The crystal that answers twice
Lay a piece of calcite on a printed page and the print appears twice. One image sits still when the crystal is turned and the other goes round it. Nothing has been done to the light except pass it through a material whose response to a field is not a number.
The reflection that happens where the glass is not
Total internal reflection sends back every photon, which is why it is called total. It does not send them back from where they arrived — the beam re-emerges displaced along the surface, by a fraction of a wavelength, and a displacement is only possible if the light spent time on the far side of a boundary it never crossed.
The ring at twenty-two degrees
A halo round the sun is a caustic in orientation rather than in space. Most of the ice crystals in a cirrus cloud send light nowhere in particular; the ones near minimum deviation all send it to nearly the same angle, because a minimum is flat — and the angle they pick has a red inner edge, which is the reverse of a rainbow.
A refraction with no wave in it
A field line crossing from one dielectric into another bends, by a law that looks exactly like Snell's with the sines replaced by tangents. Nothing is oscillating, nothing is travelling, and no speed appears anywhere in the derivation — only the two conditions that say what a boundary may and may not do to a field.
The law that only asks about one component
A boundary between two media cannot change the part of a wave that runs along it, because both sides have to agree on the phase at every point of the surface at every instant. That single restriction produces the refracted ray, the critical angle, the evanescent field and every order of a diffraction grating, out of one drawing made with a compass.
The principle that fixes the energy instead of the clock
There are two principles of least action, they compare different sets of paths, and they are not the same statement. One holds the duration fixed and lets the energy vary; the other holds the energy fixed and lets the duration vary — and written that way, mechanics turns into optics with a refractive index.
The cone a fibre will accept
A fibre takes light from a cone whose half-angle depends on two refractive indices and nothing else — not on how thick it is, not on how long, not on what is shining into it. That single number, squared and multiplied by the core's area, is all the light it will ever carry.
The surface that images one point exactly
Fermat's principle says every ray from an object to its image must take the same time. Written as an equation, that is a curve Descartes found — a surface with no aberration at all, at any angle. It exists, it is easy to compute, and it images exactly one pair of points and nothing else.
The mirror that works from every direction
A stack of alternating transparent layers reflects nearly all the light of one colour arriving straight on, and less as the light tilts, because tilting moves the forbidden band. A structure that repeats in only one direction ought therefore to be a mirror for only a range of directions. It is not, if the layers differ enough: light arriving from air cannot bring enough sideways momentum to escape the forbidden band at any angle, for either polarisation, and a flat stack of plastic and tellurium reflects every angle over a band of frequencies almost half as wide as its centre.
The reflection that needs no surface
Change the refractive index of a whole medium at one instant and a wave already travelling through it splits in two, one part running on and one running back, though there is no surface anywhere for it to reflect from. A boundary in time is Snell's law with space and time exchanged: the wavelength is kept and the frequency changes, momentum is conserved and energy is not.
The window a diamond is cut inside
A well-cut diamond sends back out of its top most of the light that falls on it, and it does so without a single silvered surface. Light entering the top is totally reflected at one sloping face of the pavilion below, again at the opposite face, and then has to leave through the top — where it must not be totally reflected. Each of those three is a condition on one angle, and together they leave a window a dozen degrees wide inside which a stone looks bright and outside which it looks glassy. The window is wide for diamond and nearly closed for glass, which is why a cutter's skill cannot make glass sparkle.
The frequency the sky returns only at a slant
The ionosphere turns back any radio wave below its plasma frequency, about eight megahertz on a summer afternoon, and lets anything above it out into space — if the wave is sent straight up. Send a fourteen-megahertz wave up at a slant and it comes back down, a thousand kilometres away. Only the part of the wave's motion across the layer has to be stopped, and that part is the frequency times the cosine of the angle. The rule turns one frequency into a range of them, sets the highest frequency that can reach any given distance, and leaves a ring of silence round every short-wave transmitter, inside which it cannot be heard at all.
The voltage that bends an electron like glass
An electron that has fallen through a potential difference V moves at a speed proportional to √V. Crossing a surface of constant potential, it keeps the part of its momentum that runs along the surface and changes the part across it, and the two rules together are Snell's law with √V in place of the refractive index. Every arrangement of charged electrodes is therefore a piece of glass for electrons. Three metal tubes make a lens that focuses whichever way its middle tube is charged — and, by a theorem proved in 1936, no lens built from round electrodes can be free of spherical aberration. That theorem kept electron microscopes some fifty times coarser than their wavelength for sixty years.
The drop that cannot hold the light it lets in
Light inside water meeting the surface at more than 48.6° is totally reflected, and every raindrop is made of water. Yet no ray of sunlight that enters a raindrop is ever totally reflected inside it. A sphere's geometry forbids it: a ray refracted on the way in meets the inside of the surface at its refraction angle, and keeps meeting it at that same angle every time it bounces, and that angle is always smaller than the critical one. The light leaks out a little at every bounce, which is why there are rainbows at all. Light born inside the drop is another matter, and a sphere can keep it for ever.
The lens with its glass taken out
Snell's law turns a ray at a surface by an angle set by the slope of the surface where the ray crosses, and the glass behind the surface does not enter it. So a lens can be sliced into rings, the glass between the slopes thrown away, and the rays will not notice. Fresnel did it for lighthouses in 1822. The waves notice — every step cuts a few hundred wavelengths out of them — unless the steps are made exactly one wavelength deep, and then the lens becomes something else: a diffractive element whose colours run backwards, and which can cancel a glass lens's colour with a twentieth of its power.
The shadow that shows the core is liquid
Nobody has been more than a few kilometres into the Earth, and its interior was mapped from the timing of earthquake waves alone. The decisive observations were of waves that do not arrive. Seismometers between about 100° and 140° from a large earthquake record no direct compressional wave, because something deep inside bends the rays away; and over two-fifths of the planet beyond 100° no direct shear wave arrives at all, because that something cannot be sheared. A slow, liquid core casts both shadows, and a few faint waves inside the first one revealed a solid core within it.
The waves that always arrive square to the beach
A storm a thousand kilometres off sends out swell in whatever direction it pleases, and that swell arrives on the beach running almost straight in. It does so whichever way the coast faces. Waves slow down in shallow water, so the part of a crest nearest the shore lags and the whole line swings round, as light does in glass. It also explains why waves shrink before they grow, and why they gather on a headland and leave the bay alone.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Refractive indexTotal internal reflectionRefractionCritical angleDispersionFermat's principlePolarisationOptical path lengthStationary pointBoundary conditionBrewster's angleDispersion relation