It was said in our first lecture, with reference to the colours produced by absorption, that the function of natural bodies is selective, not creative; that they extinguish certain constituents of the white solar light, and appear in the colours of the unextinguished light. It must at once occur to you that, inasmuch as we have in interference an agency by which light may be self-extinguished, we may have in it the conditions for the production of colour. But this would imply that certain constituents are quenched by interference, while others are permitted to remain. This is the fact; and it is entirely due to the difference in the lengths of the waves of light.

Sec. 7. Colours of thin Films. Observations of Boyle and Hooke.

This subject may be illustrated by the phenomena which first suggested the undulatory theory to the mind of Hooke. These are the colours of thin transparent films of all kinds, known as the colours of thin plates. In this relation no object in the world possesses a deeper scientific interest than a common soap-bubble. And here let me say emerges one of the difficulties which the student of pure science encounters in the presence of 'practical' communities like those of America and England; it is not to be expected that such communities can entertain any profound sympathy with labours which seem so far removed from the domain of practice as are many of the labours of the man of science. Imagine Dr. Draper spending his days in blowing soap-bubbles and in studying their colours! Would you show him the necessary patience, or grant him the necessary support? And yet be it remembered it was thus that minds like those of Boyle, Newton and Hooke were occupied; and that on such experiments has been founded a theory, the issues of which are incalculable. I see no other way for you, laymen, than to trust the scientific man with the choice of his inquiries; he stands before the tribunal of his peers, and by their verdict on his labours you ought to abide.

Whence, then, are derived the colours of the soap-bubble? Imagine a beam of white light impinging on the bubble. When it reaches the first surface of the film, a known fraction of the light is reflected back. But a large portion of the beam enters the film, reaches its second surface, and is again in part reflected. The waves from the second surface thus turn back and hotly pursue the waves from the first surface. And, if the thickness of the film be such as to cause the necessary retardation, the two systems of waves interfere with each other, producing augmented or diminished light, as the case may be.

But, inasmuch as the waves of light are of different lengths, it is plain that, to produce extinction in the case of the longer waves, a greater thickness of film is necessary than in the case of the shorter ones. Different colours, therefore, must appear at different thicknesses of the film.

Take with you a little bottle of spirit of turpentine, and pour it into one of your country ponds. You will then see the glowing of those colours over the surface of the water. On a small scale we produce them thus: A common tea-tray is filled with water, beneath the surface of which dips the end of a pipette. A beam of light falls upon the water, and is reflected by it to the screen. Spirit of turpentine is poured into the pipette; it descends, issues from the end in minute drops, which rise in succession to the surface. On reaching it, each drop spreads suddenly out as a film, and glowing colours immediately flash forth upon the screen. The colours change as the thickness of the film changes by evaporation. They are also arranged in zones, in consequence of the gradual diminution of thickness from the centre outwards.

Any film whatever will produce these colours. The film of air between two plates of glass squeezed together, exhibits, as shown by Hooke, rich fringes of colour. A particularly fine example of these fringes is now before you. Nor is even air necessary; the rupture of optical continuity suffices. Smite with an axe the black, transparent ice—black, because it is pure and of great depth—under the moraine of a glacier; you readily produce in the interior flaws which no air can reach, and from these flaws the colours of thin plates sometimes break like fire. But the source of most historic interest is, as already stated, the soap-bubble. With one of the mixtures employed by the eminent blind philosopher, Plateau, in his researches on the cohesion figures of thin films, we obtain in still air a bubble ten or twelve inches in diameter. You may look at the bubble itself, or you may look at its projection upon the screen; rich colours arranged in zones are, in both cases, exhibited. Rendering the beam parallel, and permitting it to impinge upon the sides, bottom, and top of the bubble, gorgeous fans of colour, reflected from the bubble, overspread the screen, rotating as the beam is carried round. By this experiment the internal motions of the film are also strikingly displayed.

Not in a moment are great theories elaborated: the facts which demand them become first prominent; then, to the period of observation succeeds a period of pondering and of tentative explanation. By such efforts the human mind is gradually prepared for the final theoretic illumination. The colours of thin plates, for example, occupied the attention of Robert Boyle. In his 'Experimental History of Colours' he contends against the schools which affirmed that colour was 'a penetrative quality that reaches to the innermost parts of the object,' adducing opposing facts. 'To give you a first instance,' he says, 'I shall need but to remind you of what I told you a little after the beginning of this essay, touching the blue and red and yellow that may be produced upon a piece of tempered steel; for these colours, though they be very vivid, yet if you break the steel they adorn, they will appear to be but superficial.' He then describes, in phraseology which shows the delight he took in his work, the following beautiful experiment:—

'We took a quantity of clean lead, and melted it with a strong fire, and then immediately pouring it out into a clean vessel of convenient shape and matter (we used one of iron, that the great and sudden heat might not injure it), and then carefully and nimbly taking off the scum that floated on the top, we perceived, as we expected, the smooth and glossy surface of the melted matter to be adorned with a very glorious colour, which, being as transitory as delightful, did almost immediately give place to another vivid colour, and that was as quickly succeeded by a third, and this, as it were, chased away by a fourth; and so these wonderfully vivid colours successively appeared and vanished till the metal ceasing to be hot enough to hold any longer this pleasing spectacle, the colours that chanced to adorn the surface when the lead thus began to cool remained upon it, but were so superficial that how little soever we scraped off the surface of the lead, we did, in such places, scrape off all the colour.' 'These things,' he adds, 'suggested to me some thoughts or ravings which I have not now time to acquaint you with.'[13]

He extends his observations to essential oils and spirits of wine, 'which being shaken till they have good store of bubbles, those bubbles will (if attentively considered) appear adorned with various and lovely colours, which all immediately vanish upon the retrogressing of the liquid which affords these bubbles their skins into the rest of the oil.' He also refers to the colour of glass films. 'I have seen one that was skilled in fashioning glasses by the help of a lamp blowing some of them so strongly as to burst them; whereupon it was found that the tenacity of the metal was such that before it broke it suffered itself to be reduced into films so extremely thin that they constantly showed upon their surface the varying colours of the rainbow.'[14]

Subsequent to Boyle the colours of thin plates occupied the attention of Robert Hooke, in whose writings we find a dawning of the undulatory theory of light. He describes with great distinctness the colours obtained with thin flakes of 'Muscovy glass' (talc), also those surrounding flaws in crystals where optical continuity is destroyed. He shows very clearly the dependence of the colour upon the thickness of the film, and proves by microscopic observation that plates of a uniform thickness yield uniform colours. 'If,' he says, 'you take any small piece of the Muscovy glass, and with a needle, or some other convenient instrument, cleave it oftentimes into thinner and thinner laminae, you shall find that until you come to a determinate thinness of them they shall appear transparent and colourless; but if you continue to split and divide them further, you shall find at last that each plate shall appear most lovely tinged or imbued with a determinate colour. If, further, by any means you so flaw a pretty thick piece that one part begins to cleave a little from the other, and between these two there be gotten some pellucid medium, those laminated or pellucid bodies that fill that space shall exhibit several rainbows or coloured lines, the colours of which will be disposed and ranged according to the various thicknesses of the several parts of the plate.' He then describes fully and clearly the experiment with pressed glasses already referred to:—

'Take two small pieces of ground and polished looking-glass plate, each about the bigness of a shilling: take these two dry, and with your forefingers and thumbs press them very hard and close together, and you shall find that when they approach each other very near there will appear several irises or coloured lines, in the same manner almost as in the Muscovy glass; and you may very easily change any of the colours of any part of the interposed body by pressing the plates closer and harder together, or leaving them more lax—that is, a part which appeared coloured with a red, may presently be tinged with a yellow, blue, green, purple, or the like. 'Any substance,' he says, 'provided it be thin and transparent, will show these colours.' Like Boyle, he obtained them with glass films; he also procured them with bubbles of pitch, rosin, colophony, turpentine, solutions of several gums, as gum arabic in water, any glutinous liquor, as wort, wine, spirit of wine, oyl of turpentine, glare of snails, &c.

Hooke's writings show that even in his day the idea that both light and heat are modes of motion had taken possession of many minds. 'First,' he says, 'that all kind of fiery burning bodies have their parts in motion I think will be easily granted me. That the spark struck from a flint and steel is in rapid agitation I have elsewhere made probable;... that heat argues a motion of the internal parts is (as I said before) generally granted;... and that in all extremely hot shining bodies there is a very quick motion that causes light, as well as a more robust that causes heat, may be argued from the celerity wherewith the bodies are dissolved. Next, it must be a vibrative motion.' His reference to the quick motion of light and the more robust motion of heat is a remarkable stroke of sagacity; but Hooke's direct insight is better than his reasoning; for the proofs he adduces that light is 'a vibrating motion' have no particular bearing upon the question.

Still the Undulatory Theory had undoubtedly dawned upon the mind of this remarkable man. In endeavouring to account for the colours of thin plates, he again refers to the relation of colour to thickness: he dwells upon the fact that the film which shows these colours must be transparent, proving this by showing that however thin an opaque body was rendered no colours were produced. 'This,' he says, 'I have often tried by pressing a small globule of mercury between two smooth plates of glass, whereby I have reduced that body to a much greater thinness than was requisite to exhibit the colours with a transparent body.' Then follows the sagacious remark that to produce the colours 'there must be a considerable reflecting body adjacent to the under or further side of the lamina or plate: for this I always found, that the greater that reflection was the more vivid were the appearing colours. From which observation,' he continues, 'it is most evident, that the reflection from the further or under side of the body is the principal cause of the production of these colours.'

He draws a diagram, correctly representing the reflection at the two surfaces of the film; but here his clearness ends. He ascribes the colours to a coalescence or confusion of the two reflecting pulses; the principal of interference being unknown to him, he could not go further in the way of explanation.

Sec. 8. Newton's Rings. Relation of Colour to Thickness of Film.



In this way, then, by the active operation of different minds, facts are observed, examined, and the precise conditions of their appearance determined. All such work in science is the prelude to other work; and the efforts of Boyle and Hooke cleared the way for the optical career of Newton. He conquered the difficulty which Hooke had found insuperable, and determined by accurate measurements the relation of the thickness of the film to the colour it displays. In doing this his first care was to obtain a film of variable and calculable depth. On a plano-convex glass lens (D B E, fig. 13) of very feeble curvature he laid a plate of glass (A C) with a plane surface, thus obtaining a film of air of gradually increasing depth from the point of contact (B) outwards. On looking at the film in monochromatic light he saw, with the delight attendant on fulfilled prevision, surrounding the place of contact, a series of bright rings separated from each other by dark ones, and becoming more closely packed together as the distance from the point of contact augmented (as in fig. 14). When he employed red light, his rings had certain diameters; when he employed blue light, the diameters were less. In general terms, the more refrangible the light the smaller were the rings. Causing his glasses to pass through the spectrum from red to blue, the rings gradually contracted; when the passage was from blue to red, the rings expanded. This is a beautiful experiment, and appears to have given Newton the most lively satisfaction. When white light fell upon, the glasses, inasmuch as the colours were not superposed, a series of iris-coloured circles was obtained. A magnified image of Newton's rings is now before you, and, by employing in succession red, blue, and white light, we obtain all the effects observed by Newton. You notice that in monochromatic light the rings run closer and closer together as they recede from the centre. This is due to the fact that at a distance the film of air thickens more rapidly than near the centre. When white light is employed, this closing up of the rings causes the various colours to be superposed, so that after a certain thickness they are blended together to white light, the rings then ceasing altogether. It needs but a moment's reflection to understand that the colours of thin plates, produced by white light, are never unmixed or monochromatic.



Newton compared the tints obtained in this way with the tints of his soap-bubble, and he calculated the corresponding thickness. How he did this may be thus made plain to you: Suppose the water of the ocean to be absolutely smooth; it would then accurately represent the earth's curved surface. Let a perfectly horizontal plane touch the surface at any point. Knowing the earth's diameter, any engineer or mathematician in this room could tell you how far the sea's surface will lie below this plane, at the distance of a yard, ten yards, a hundred yards, or a thousand yards from the point of contact of the plane and the sea. It is common, indeed, in levelling operations, to allow for the curvature of the earth. Newton's calculation was precisely similar. His plane glass was a tangent to his curved one. From its refractive index and focal distance he determined the diameter of the sphere of which his curved glass formed a segment, he measured the distances of his rings from the place of contact, and he calculated the depth between the tangent plane and the curved surface, exactly as the engineer would calculate the distance between his tangent plane and the surface of the sea. The wonder is, that, where such infinitesimal distances are involved, Newton, with the means at his disposal, could have worked with such marvellous exactitude.

To account for these rings was the greatest optical difficulty that Newton, ever encountered. He quite appreciated the difficulty. Over his eagle eye there was no film—no vagueness in his conceptions. At the very outset his theory was confronted by the question, Why, when a beam of light is incident on a transparent body, are some of the light-particles reflected and some transmitted? Is it that there are two kinds of particles, the one specially fitted for transmission and the other for reflection? This cannot be the reason; for, if we allow a beam of light which has been reflected from one piece of glass to fall upon another, it, as a general rule, is also divided into a reflected and a transmitted portion. The particles once reflected are not always reflected, nor are the particles once transmitted always transmitted. Newton saw all this; he knew he had to explain why it is that the self-same particle is at one moment reflected and at the next moment transmitted. It could only he through some change in the condition of the particle itself. The self-same particle, he affirmed, was affected by 'fits' of easy transmission and reflection.

Sec. 9. Theory of 'Fits' applied to Newton's Rings.

If you are willing to follow me in an attempt to reveal the speculative groundwork of this theory of fits, the intellectual discipline will, I think, repay you for the necessary effort of attention. Newton was chary of stating what he considered to be the cause of the fits, but there can hardly be a doubt that his mind rested on a physical cause. Nor can there be a doubt that here, as in all attempts at theorising, he was compelled to fall back upon experience for the materials of his theory. Let us attempt to restore his course of thought and observation. A magnet would furnish him with the notion of attracted and repelled poles; and he who habitually saw in the visible an image of the invisible would naturally endow his light-particles with such poles. Turning their attracted poles towards a transparent substance, the particles would be sucked in and transmitted; turning their repelled poles, they would be driven away or reflected. Thus, by the ascription of poles, the transmission and reflection of the self-same particle at different times might be accounted for.

Consider these rings of Newton as seen in pure red light: they are alternately bright and dark. The film of air corresponding to the outermost of them is not thicker than an ordinary soap-bubble, and it becomes thinner on approaching the centre; still Newton, as I have said, measured the thickness corresponding to every ring, and showed the difference of thickness between ring and ring. Now, mark the result. For the sake of convenience, let us call the thickness of the film of air corresponding to the first dark ring d; then Newton found the distance corresponding to the second dark ring 2 d; the thickness corresponding to the third dark ring 3 d; the thickness corresponding to the tenth dark ring 10 d, and so on. Surely there must be some hidden meaning in this little distance, d, which turns up so constantly? One can imagine the intense interest with which Newton pondered its meaning. Observe the probable outcome of his thought. He had endowed his light-particles with poles, but now he is forced to introduce the notion of periodic recurrence. Here his power of transfer from the sensible to the subsensible would render it easy for him to suppose the light-particles animated, not only with a motion of translation, but also with a motion of rotation. Newton's astronomical knowledge rendered all such conceptions familiar to him. The earth has such a double motion. In the time occupied in passing over a million and a half of miles of its orbit—that is, in twenty-four hours—our planet performs a complete rotation; and in the time required to pass over the distance d, Newton's light-particle might be supposed to perform a complete rotation. True, the light-particle is smaller than the planet, and the distance d, instead of being a million and a half of miles, is a little over the ninety thousandth of an inch. But the two conceptions are, in point of intellectual quality, identical.

Imagine, then, a particle entering the film of air where it possesses this precise thickness. To enter the film, its attracted end must be presented. Within the film it is able to turn once completely round; at the other side of the film its attracted pole will be again presented; it will, therefore, enter the glass at the opposite side of the film and be lost to the eye. All round the place of contact, wherever the film possesses this precise thickness, the light will equally disappear—we shall therefore have a ring of darkness.

And now observe how well this conception falls in with the law of proportionality discovered by Newton. When the thickness of the film is 2 d, the particle has time to perform, two complete rotations within the film; when the thickness is 3 d, three complete rotations; when 10 d, ten complete rotations are performed. It is manifest that in each of these cases, on arriving at the second surface of the film, the attracted pole of the particle will be presented. It will, therefore, be transmitted; and, because no light is sent to the eye, we shall have a ring of darkness at each of these places.

The bright rings follow immediately from the same conception. They occur between the dark rings, the thicknesses to which they correspond being also intermediate between those of the dark ones. Take the case of the first bright ring. The thickness of the film is 1/2d; in this interval the rotating particle can perform only half a rotation. When, therefore, it reaches the second surface of the film, its repelled pole is presented; it is, therefore, driven back and reaches the eye. At all distances round the centre corresponding to this thickness the same effect is produced, and the consequence is a ring of brightness. The other bright rings are similarly accounted for. At the second one, where the thickness is 11/2d, a rotation and a half is performed; at the third, two rotations and a half; and at each of these places the particles present their repelled poles to the lower surface of the film. They are therefore sent back to the eye, and produce there the impression of brightness. This analysis, though involving difficulties when closely scrutinised, enables us to see how the theory of fits may have grown into consistency in the mind of Newton.

It has been already stated that the Emission Theory assigned a greater velocity to light in glass and water than in air or stellar space; and that on this point it was at direct issue with the theory of undulation, which makes the velocity in air or stellar space greater than in glass or water. By an experiment proposed by Arago, and executed with consummate skill by Foucault and Fizeau, this question was brought to a crucial test, and decided in favour of the theory of undulation.

In the present instance also the two theories are at variance. Newton assumed that the action which produces the alternate bright and dark rings took place at a single surface; that is, the second surface of the film. The undulatory theory affirms that the rings are caused by the interference of waves reflected from both surfaces. This also has been demonstrated by experiment. By a proper arrangement, as we shall afterwards learn, we may abolish reflection from one of the surfaces of the film, and when this is done the rings vanish altogether.

Rings of feeble intensity are also formed by transmitted light. These are referred by the undulatory theory to the interference of waves which have passed directly through the film, with others which have suffered two reflections within the film, and are thus completely accounted for.

Sec. 10. The Diffraction of Light.

Newton's espousal of the Emission Theory is said to have retarded scientific discovery. It might, however, be questioned whether, in the long run, the errors of great men have not really their effect in rendering intellectual progress rhythmical, instead of permitting it to remain uniform, the 'retardation' in each case being the prelude to a more impetuous advance. It is confusion and stagnation, rather than error, that we ought to avoid. Thus, though the undulatory theory was held back for a time, it gathered strength in the interval, and its development within the last half century has been so rapid and triumphant as to leave no rival in the field. We have now to turn to the investigation of new classes of phenomena, of which it alone can render a satisfactory account.

Newton, who was familiar with the idea of an ether, and who introduced it in some of his speculations, objected, as already stated, that if light consisted of waves shadows could not exist; for that the waves would bend round the edges of opaque bodies and agitate the ether behind them. He was right in affirming that this bending ought to occur, but wrong in supposing that it does not occur. The bending is real, though in all ordinary cases it is masked by the action of interference. This inflection of the light receives the name of Diffraction.

To study the phenomena of diffraction it is necessary that our source of light should be a physical point, or a fine line; for when a luminous surface is employed, the waves issuing from different points of the surface obscure and neutralize each other. A point of light of high intensity is obtained by admitting the parallel rays of the sun through an aperture in a window-shutter, and concentrating the beam by a lens of short focus. The small solar image at the focus constitutes a suitable point of light. The image of the sun formed on the convex surface of a glass bead, or of a watch-glass blackened within, though less intense, will also answer. An intense line of light is obtained by admitting the sunlight through a slit and sending it through a strong cylindrical lens. The slice of light is contracted to a physical line at the focus of the lens. A glass tube blackened within and placed in the light, reflects from its surface a luminous line which, though less intense, also answers the purpose.

In the experiment now to be described a vertical slit of variable width is placed in front of the electric lamp, and this slit is looked at from a distance through another vertical slit, also of variable aperture, and held in the hand.

The light of the lamp being, in the first place, rendered monochromatic by placing a pure red glass in front of the slit, when the eye is placed in the straight line drawn through both slits an extraordinary appearance (shown in fig. 15) is observed. Firstly, the slit in front of the lamp is seen as a vivid rectangle of light; but right and left of it is a long series of rectangles, decreasing in vividness, and separated from each other by intervals of absolute darkness.

The breadth of these bands is seen to vary with the width of the slit held before the eye. When the slit is widened the bands become narrower, and crowd more losely together; when the slit is narrowed, the individual bands widen and also retreat from each other, leaving between them wider spaces of darkness than before.



Leaving everything else unchanged, let a blue glass or a solution of ammonia-sulphate of copper, which gives a very pure blue, be placed in the path of the light. A series of blue bands is thus obtained, exactly like the former in all respects save one; the blue rectangles are narrower, and they are closer together than the red ones.

If we employ colours of intermediate refrangibilities, which we may do by causing the different colours of a spectrum to shine through the slit, we obtain bands of colour intermediate in width, and occupying intermediate positions, between those of the red and blue. The aspect of the bands in red, green, and violet light is represented in fig. 16. When white light, therefore, passes through the slit the various colours are not superposed, and instead of a series of monochromatic bands, separated from each other by intervals of darkness, we have a series of coloured spectra placed side by side. When the distant slit is illuminated by a candle flame, instead of the more intense electric light, or when a distant platinum wire raised to a white heat by an electric current is employed, substantially the same effects are observed.



Sec. 11. Application of the Wave-theory to the Phenomena of Diffraction.

Of these and of a multitude of similar effects the Emission Theory is incompetent to offer any satisfactory explanation. Let us see how they are accounted for by the Theory of Undulation.

And here, with the view of reaching absolute clearness, I must make an appeal to that faculty the importance of which I have dwelt upon so earnestly here and elsewhere—the faculty of imagination. Figure yourself upon the sea-shore, with a well-formed wave advancing. Take a line of particles along the front of the wave, all at the same distance below the crest; they are all rising in the same manner and at the same rate. Take a similar line of particles on the back of the wave, they are all falling in the same manner and at the same rate. Take a line of particles along the crest, they are all in the same condition as regards the motion of the wave. The same is true for a line of particles along the furrow of the wave.

The particles referred to in each of these cases respectively, being in the same condition as regards the motion of the wave, are said to be in the same phase of vibration. But if you compare a particle on the front of the wave with one at the back; or, more generally, if you compare together any two particles not occupying the same position in the wave, their conditions of motion not being the same, they are said to be in different phases of vibration. If one of the particles lie upon the crest, and the other on the furrow of the wave, then, as one is about to rise and the other about to fall, they are said to be in opposite phases of vibration.

There is still another point to be cleared up—and it is one of the utmost importance as regards our present subject. Let O (fig. 17) be a spot in still water which, when disturbed, produces a series of circular waves: the disturbance necessary to produce these waves is simply an oscillation up and down of the water at O. Let m n be the position of the ridge of one of the waves at any moment, and m' n' its position a second or two afterwards. Now every particle of water, as the wave passes it, oscillates, as we have learned, up and down. If, then, this oscillation be a sufficient origin of wave-motion, each distinct particle of the wave m n ought to give birth, to a series of circular waves. This is the important point up to which I wish to lead you. Every particle of the wave m n does act in this way. Taking each particle as a centre, and surrounding it by a circular wave with a radius equal to the distance between m n and m' n', the coalescence of all these little waves would build up the large ridge m' n' exactly as we find it built up in nature. Here, in fact, we resolve the wave-motion into its elements, and having succeeded in doing this we shall have no great difficulty in applying our knowledge to optical phenomena.



Now let us return to our slit, and, for the sake of simplicity, we will first consider the case of monochromatic light. Conceive a series of waves of ether advancing from the first slit towards the second, and finally filling the second slit. When each wave passes through the latter it not only pursues its direct course to the retina, but diverges right and left, tending to throw into motion the entire mass of the ether behind the slit. In fact, as already explained, every point of the wave which fills the slit is itself a centre of a new wave system which is transmitted in all directions through the ether behind the slit. This is the celebrated principle of Huyghens: we have now to examine how these secondary waves act upon each other.



Let us first regard the central band of the series. Let AP (fig. 18) be the width of the aperture held before the eye, grossly exaggerated of course, and let the dots across the aperture represent ether particles, all in the same phase of vibration. Let E T represent a portion of the retina. From O, in the centre of the slit, let a perpendicular O R be imagined drawn upon the retina. The motion communicated to the point R will then be the sum of all the motions emanating in this direction from the ether particles in the slit. Considering the extreme narrowness of the aperture, we may, without sensible error, regard all points of the wave A P as equally distant from R. No one of the partial waves lags sensibly behind the others: hence, at R, and in its immediate neighbourhood, we have no sensible reduction of the light by interference. This undiminished light produces the brilliant central band of the series.

Let us now consider those waves which diverge laterally behind the second slit. In this case the waves from the two sides of the slit have, in order to converge upon the retina, to pass over unequal distances. Let A P (fig. 19) represent, as before, the width of the second slit. We have now to consider the action of the various parts of the wave A P upon a point R' of the retina, not situated in the line joining the two slits.



Let us take the particular case in which the difference of path from the two marginal points A, P, to the retina is a whole wave-length of the red light; how must this difference affect the final illumination of the retina?

Let us fix our attention upon the particular oblique line that passes through the centre O of the slit to the retina at R'. The difference of path between the waves which pass along this line and those from the two margins is, in the case here supposed, half a wavelength. Make e R' equal to P R', join P and e, and draw O d parallel to P e. A e is then the length of a wave of light, while A d is half a wave-length. Now the least reflection will make it clear that not only is there discordance between the central and marginal waves, but that every line of waves such as x R', on the one side of O R', finds a line x' R' upon the other side of O R', from which its path differs by half an undulation—with which, therefore, it is in complete discordance. The consequence is, that the light on the one side of the central line will completely abolish the light on the other side of that line, absolute darkness being the result of their coalescence. The first dark interval of our series of bands is thus accounted for. It is produced by an obliquity of direction which causes the paths of the marginal waves to be a whole wave-length different from each other.

When the difference between the paths of the marginal waves is half a wave-length, a partial destruction of the light is effected. The luminous intensity corresponding to this obliquity is a little less than one-half—accurately 0.4—that of the undiffracted light. If the paths of the marginal waves be three semi-undulations different from each other, and if the whole beam be divided into three equal parts, two of these parts will, for the reasons just given, completely neutralize each other, the third only being effective. Corresponding, therefore, to an obliquity which produces a difference of three semi-undulations in the marginal waves, we have a luminous band, but one of considerably less intensity than the undiffracted central band.

With a marginal difference of path of four semi-undulations we have a second extinction of the entire beam, because here the beam can be divided into four equal parts, every two of which quench each other. A second space of absolute darkness will therefore correspond to the obliquity producing this difference. In this way we might proceed further, the general result being that, whenever the direction of wave-motion is such as to produce a marginal difference of path of an even number of semi-undulations, we have complete extinction; while, when the marginal difference is an odd number of semi-undulations, we have only partial extinction, a portion of the beam remaining as a luminous band.

A moment's reflection will make it plain that the wider the slit the less will be the obliquity of direction needed to produce the necessary difference of path. With a wide slit, therefore, the bands, as observed, will be closer together than with a narrow one. It is also plain that the shorter the wave, the less will be the obliquity required to produce the necessary retardation. The maxima and minima of violet light must therefore fall nearer to the centre than the maxima and minima of red light. The maxima and minima of the other colours fall between these extremes. In this simple way the undulatory theory completely accounts for the extraordinary appearance above referred to.

When a slit and telescope are used, instead of the slit and naked eye, the effects are magnified and rendered more brilliant. Looking, moreover, through a properly adjusted telescope with a small circular aperture in front of it, at a distant point of light, the point is seen encircled by a series of coloured bands. If monochromatic light be used, these bands are simply bright and dark, but with white light the circles display iris-colours. If a slit be shortened so as to form a square aperture, we have two series of spectra at right angles to each other. The effects, indeed, are capable of endless variation by varying the size, shape, and number of the apertures through which the point of light is observed. Through two square apertures, with their corners touching each other as at A, Schwerd observed the appearance shown in fig. 20. Adding two others to them, as at B, he observed the appearance represented in fig. 21. The position of every band of light and shade in such figures has been calculated from theory by Fresnel, Fraunhofer, Herschel, Schwerd, and others, and completely verified by experiment. Your eyes could not tell you with greater certainty of the existence of these bands than the theoretic calculation.



The street-lamps at night, looked at through the meshes of a handkerchief, show diffraction phenomena. The diffraction effects obtained in looking through a bird's feathers are, as shown by Schwerd, very brilliant. The iridescence of certain Alpine clouds is also an effect of diffraction which may be imitated by the spores of Lycopodium. When shaken over a glass plate these spores cause a point of light, looked at through the dusted plate, to be surrounded by coloured circles, which rise to actual splendour when the light becomes intense. Shaken in the air the spores produce the same effect. The diffraction phenomena obtained during the artificial precipitation of clouds from the vapours of various liquids in an intensely illuminated tube are, as I have elsewhere shewn, exceedingly fine.



One of the most interesting cases of diffraction by small particles that ever came before me was that of an artist whose vision was disturbed by vividly coloured circles. He was in great dread of losing his sight; assigning as a cause of his increased fear that the circles were becoming larger and the colours more vivid. I ascribed the colours to minute particles in the humours of the eye, and ventured to encourage him by the assurance that the increase of size and vividness on the part of the circles indicated that the diffracting particles were becoming smaller, and that they might finally be altogether absorbed. The prediction was verified. It is needless to say one word on the necessity of optical knowledge in the case of the practical oculist.

Without breaking ground on the chromatic phenomena presented by crystals, two other sources of colour may be mentioned here. By interference in the earth's atmosphere, the light of a star, as shown by Arago, is self-extinguished, the twinkling of the star and the changes of colour which it undergoes being due to this cause. Looking at such a star through an opera-glass, and shaking the glass so as to cause the image of the star to pass rapidly over the retina, you produce a row of coloured beads, the spaces between which correspond to the periods of extinction. Fine scratches drawn upon glass or polished metal reflect the waves of light from their sides; and some, being reflected from the opposite sides of the same scratch, interfere with and quench each other. But the obliquity of reflection which extinguishes the shorter waves does not extinguish the longer ones, hence the phenomena of colours. These are called the colours of striated surfaces. They are beautifully illustrated by mother-of-pearl. This shell is composed of exceedingly thin layers, which, when cut across by the polishing of the shell, expose their edges and furnish the necessary small and regular grooves. The most conclusive proof that the colours are due to the mechanical state of the surface is to be found in the fact, established by Brewster, that by stamping the shell carefully upon black sealing-wax, we transfer the grooves, and produce upon the wax the colours of mother-of-pearl.



LECTURE III.

RELATION OF THEORIES TO EXPERIENCE ORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF THE ATTRACTION OF GRAVITATION NOTION OF POLARITY, HOW GENERATED ATOMIC POLARITY STRUCTURAL ARRANGEMENTS DUE TO POLARITY ARCHITECTURE OF CRYSTALS CONSIDERED AS AN INTRODUCTION TO THEIR ACTION UPON LIGHT NOTION OF ATOMIC POLARITY APPLIED TO CRYSTALLINE STRUCTURE EXPERIMENTAL ILLUSTRATIONS CRYSTALLIZATION OF WATER EXPANSION BY HEAT AND BY COLD DEPORTMENT OF WATER CONSIDERED AND EXPLAINED BEARINGS OF CRYSTALLIZATION ON OPTICAL PHENOMENA REFRACTION DOUBLE REFRACTION POLARIZATION ACTION OF TOURMALINE CHARACTER OF THE BEAMS EMERGENT FROM ICELAND SPAR POLARIZATION BY ORDINARY REFRACTION AND REFLECTION DEPOLARIZATION

Sec. 1. Derivation of Theoretic Conceptions from Experience.

One of the objects of our last lecture, and that not the least important, was to illustrate the manner in which scientific theories are formed. They, in the first place, take their rise in the desire of the mind to penetrate to the sources of phenomena. From its infinitesimal beginnings, in ages long past, this desire has grown and strengthened into an imperious demand of man's intellectual nature. It long ago prompted Caesar to say that he would exchange his victories for a glimpse of the sources of the Nile; it wrought itself into the atomic theories of Lucretius; it impelled Darwin to those daring speculations which of late years have so agitated the public mind. But in no case, while framing theories, does the imagination create its materials. It expands, diminishes, moulds, and refines, as the case may be, materials derived from the world of fact and observation.

This is more evidently the case in a theory like that of light, where the motions of a subsensible medium, the ether, are presented to the mind. But no theory escapes the condition. Newton took care not to encumber the idea of gravitation with unnecessary physical conceptions; but we know that he indulged in them, though he did not connect them with his theory. But even the theory, as it stands, did not enter the mind as a revelation dissevered from the world of experience. The germ of the conception that the sun and planets are held together by a force of attraction is to be found in the fact that a magnet had been previously seen to attract iron. The notion of matter attracting matter came thus from without, not from within. In our present lecture the magnetic force must serve as the portal into a new domain; but in the first place we must master its elementary phenomena.

The general facts of magnetism are most simply illustrated by a magnetized bar of steel, commonly called a bar magnet. Placing such a magnet upright upon a table, and bringing a magnetic needle near its bottom, one end of the needle is observed to retreat from the magnet, while the other as promptly approaches. The needle is held quivering there by some invisible influence exerted upon it. Raising the needle along the magnet, but still avoiding contact, the rapidity of its oscillations decreases, because the force acting upon it becomes weaker. At the centre the oscillations cease. Above the centre, the end of the needle which had been previously drawn towards the magnet retreats, and the opposite end approaches. As we ascend higher, the oscillations become more violent, because the force becomes stronger. At the upper end of the magnet, as at the lower, the force reaches a maximum; but all the lower half of the magnet, from E to S (fig. 22), attracts one end of the needle, while all the upper half, from E to N, attracts the opposite end. This doubleness of the magnetic force is called polarity, and the points near the ends of the magnet in which the forces seem concentrated are called its poles.



What, then, will occur if we break this magnet in two at the centre E? Shall we obtain two magnets, each with a single pole? No; each half is in itself a perfect magnet, possessing two poles. This may be proved by breaking something of less value than the magnet—the steel of a lady's stays, for example, hardened and magnetized. It acts like the magnet. When broken, each half acts like the whole; and when these parts are again broken, we have still the perfect magnet, possessing, as in the first instance, two poles. Push your breaking to its utmost sensible limit—you cannot stop there. The bias derived from observation will infallibly carry you beyond the bourne of the senses, and compel you to regard this thing that we call magnetic polarity as resident in the ultimate particles of the steel. You come to the conclusion that each molecule of the magnet is endowed with this polar force.

Like all other forces, this force of magnetism is amenable to mechanical laws; and, knowing the direction and magnitude of the force, we can predict its action. Placing a small magnetic needle near a bar magnet, it takes a determinate position. That position might be deduced theoretically from the mutual action of the poles. Moving the needle round the magnet, for each point of the surrounding space there is a definite direction of the needle and no other. A needle of iron will answer as well as the magnetic needle; for the needle of iron is magnetized by the magnet, and acts exactly like a steel needle independently magnetized.

If we place two or more needles of iron near the magnet, the action becomes more complex, for then the needles are not only acted on by the magnet, but they act upon each other. And if we pass to smaller masses of iron—to iron filings, for example—we find that they act substantially as the needles, arranging themselves in definite forms, in obedience to the magnetic action.

Placing a sheet of paper or glass over a bar magnet and showering iron filings upon the paper, I notice a tendency of the filings to arrange themselves in determinate lines. They cannot freely follow this tendency, for they are hampered by the friction against the paper. They are helped by tapping the paper; each tap releasing them for a moment, and enabling them to follow their tendencies. But this is an experiment which can only be seen by myself. To enable you all to see it, I take a pair of small magnets and by a simple optical arrangement throw the magnified images of the magnets upon the screen. Scattering iron filings over the glass plate to which the small magnets are attached, and tapping the plate, you see the arrangement of the iron filings in those magnetic curves which have been so long familiar to scientific men (fig. 23).



(By a very ingenious device, Professor Mayer, of Hoboken, has succeeded in fixing and photographing the magnetic curves. I am indebted to his kindness for the annexed beautiful illustration, fig. 24.)

The aspect of these curves so fascinated Faraday that the greater portion of his intellectual life was devoted to pondering over them. He invested the space through which they run with a kind of materiality; and the probability is that the progress of science, by connecting the phenomena of magnetism with the luminiferous ether, will prove these 'lines of force,' as Faraday loved to call them, to represent a condition of this mysterious substratum of all radiant action.

It is not, however, the magnetic curves, as such, but their relationship to theoretic conceptions, that we have now to consider. By the action of the bar magnet upon the needle we obtain the notion of a polar force; by the breaking of the strip of magnetized steel we attain the notion that polarity can attach itself to the ultimate particles of matter. The experiment with the iron filings introduces a new idea into the mind; the idea, namely, of structural arrangement. Every pair of filings possesses four poles, two of which are attractive and two repulsive. The attractive poles approach, the repulsive poles retreat; the consequence being a certain definite arrangement of the particles with reference to each other.

Sec. 2. Theory of Crystallization.

Now this idea of structure, as produced by polar force, opens a way for the intellect into an entirely new region, and the reason you are asked to accompany me into this region is, that our next inquiry relates to the action of crystals upon light. Prior to speaking of this action, I wish you to realise intellectually the process of crystalline architecture. Look then into a granite quarry, and spend a few minutes in examining the rock. It is not of perfectly uniform texture. It is rather an agglomeration of pieces, which, on examination, present curiously defined forms. You have there what mineralogists call quartz, you have felspar, you have mica. In a mineralogical cabinet, where these substances are preserved separately, you will obtain some notion of their forms. You will see there, also, specimens of beryl, topaz, emerald, tourmaline, heavy spar, fluor-spar, Iceland spar—possibly a full-formed diamond, as it quitted the hand of Nature, not yet having got into the hands of the lapidary.



These crystals, you will observe, are put together according to law; they are not chance productions; and, if you care to examine them more minutely, you will find their architecture capable of being to some extent revealed. They often split in certain directions before a knife-edge, exposing smooth and shining surfaces, which are called planes of cleavage; and by following these planes you sometimes reach an internal form, disguised beneath the external form of the crystal. Ponder these beautiful edifices of a hidden builder. You cannot help asking yourself how they were built; and familiar as you now are with the notion of a polar force, and the ability of that force to produce structural arrangement, your inevitable answer will be, that those crystals are built by the play of polar forces with which their molecules are endowed. In virtue of these forces, molecule lays itself to molecule in a perfectly definite way, the final visible form of the crystal depending upon this play of its ultimate particles.

Everywhere in Nature we observe this tendency to run into definite forms, and nothing is easier than to give scope to this tendency by artificial arrangements. Dissolve nitre in water, and allow the water slowly to evaporate; the nitre remains and the solution soon becomes so concentrated that the liquid condition can no longer be preserved. The nitre-molecules approach each other, and come at length within the range of their polar forces. They arrange themselves in obedience to these forces, a minute crystal of nitre being at first produced. On this crystal the molecules continue to deposit themselves from the surrounding liquid. The crystal grows, and finally we have large prisms of nitre, each of a perfectly definite shape. Alum crystallizes with the utmost ease in this fashion. The resultant crystal is, however, different in shape from that of nitre, because the poles of the molecules are differently disposed. When they are nursed with proper care, crystals of these substances may be caused to grow to a great size.

The condition of perfect crystallization is, that the crystallizing force shall act with deliberation. There should be no hurry in its operations; but every molecule ought to be permitted, without disturbance from its neighbours, to exercise its own rights. If the crystallization be too sudden, the regularity disappears. Water may be saturated with sulphate of soda, dissolved when the water is hot, and afterwards permitted to cool. When cold the solution is supersaturated; that is to say, more solid matter is contained in it than corresponds to its temperature. Still the molecules show no sign of building themselves together.

This is a very remarkable, though a very common fact. The molecules in the centre of the liquid are so hampered by the action of their neighbours that freedom to follow their own tendencies is denied to them. Fix your mind's eye upon a molecule within the mass. It wishes to unite with its neighbour to the right, but it wishes equally to unite with its neighbour to the left; the one tendency neutralizes the other and it unites with neither. But, if a crystal of sulphate of soda be dropped into the solution, the molecular indecision ceases. On the crystal the adjacent molecules will immediately precipitate themselves; on these again others will be precipitated, and this act of precipitation will continue from the top of the flask to the bottom, until the solution has, as far as possible, assumed the solid form. The crystals here produced are small, and confusedly arranged. The process has been too hasty to admit of the pure and orderly action of the crystallizing force. It typifies the state of a nation in which natural and healthy change is resisted, until society becomes, as it were, supersaturated with the desire for change, the change being then effected through confusion and revolution.

Let me illustrate the action of the crystallizing force by two examples of it: Nitre might be employed, but another well-known substance enables me to make the experiment in a better form. The substance is common sal-ammoniac, or chloride of ammonium, dissolved in water. Cleansing perfectly a glass plate, the solution of the chloride is poured over the glass, to which when the plate is set on edge, a thin film of the liquid adheres. Warming the glass slightly, evaporation is promoted, but by evaporation the water only is removed. The plate is then placed in a solar microscope, and an image of the film is thrown upon a white screen. The warmth of the illuminating beam adds itself to that already imparted to the glass plate, so that after a moment or two the dissolved salt can no longer exist in the liquid condition. Molecule then closes with molecule, and you have a most impressive display of crystallizing energy overspreading the whole screen. You may produce something similar if you breathe upon the frost ferns which overspread your window-panes in winter, and then observe through a pocket lens the subsequent recongelation of the film.

In this case the crystallizing force is hampered by the adhesion of the film to the glass; nevertheless, the play of power is strikingly beautiful. Sometimes the crystals start from the edge of the film and run through it from that edge; for, the crystallization being once started, the molecules throw themselves by preference on the crystals already formed. Sometimes the crystals start from definite nuclei in the centre of the film, every small crystalline particle which rests in the film furnishing a starting-point. Throughout the process you notice one feature which is perfectly unalterable, and that is, angular magnitude. The spiculae branch from the trunk, and from these branches others shoot; but the angles enclosed by the spiculae are unalterable. In like manner you may find alum-crystals, quartz-crystals, and all other crystals, distorted in shape. They are thus far at the mercy of the accidents of crystallization; but in one particular they assert their superiority over all such accidents—angular magnitude is always rigidly preserved.

My second example of the action of crystallizing force is this: By sending a voltaic current through a liquid, you know that we decompose the liquid, and if it contains a metal, we liberate this metal by electrolysis. This small cell contains a solution of acetate of lead, which is chosen for our present purpose, because lead lends itself freely to this crystallizing power. Into the cell are dipped two very thin platinum wires, and these are connected by other wires with a small voltaic battery. On sending the voltaic current through the solution, the lead will be slowly severed from the atoms with which it is now combined; it will be liberated upon one of the wires, and at the moment of its liberation it will obey the polar forces of its atoms, and produce crystalline forms of exquisite beauty. They are now before you, sprouting like ferns from the wire, appearing indeed like vegetable growths rendered so rapid as to be plainly visible to the naked eye. On reversing the current, these wonderful lead-fronds will dissolve, while from the other wire filaments of lead dart through the liquid. In a moment or two the growth of the lead-trees recommences, but they now cover the other wire.

In the process of crystallization, Nature first reveals herself as a builder. Where do her operations stop? Does she continue by the play of the same forces to form the vegetable, and afterwards the animal? Whatever the answer to these questions may be, trust me that the notions of the coming generations regarding this mysterious thing, which some have called 'brute matter,' will be very different from those of the generations past.

There is hardly a more beautiful and instructive example of this play of molecular force than that furnished by water. You have seen the exquisite fern-like forms produced by the crystallization of a film of water on a cold window-pane.[15] You have also probably noticed the beautiful rosettes tied together by the crystallizing force during the descent of a snow-shower on a very calm day. The slopes and summits of the Alps are loaded in winter with these blossoms of the frost. They vary infinitely in detail of beauty, but the same angular magnitude is preserved throughout: an inflexible power binding spears and spiculae to the angle of 60 degrees.

The common ice of our lakes is also ruled in its formation by the same angle. You may sometimes see in freezing water small crystals of stellar shapes, each star consisting of six rays, with this angle of 60 deg. between every two of them. This structure may be revealed in ordinary ice. In a sunbeam, or, failing that, in our electric beam, we have an instrument delicate enough to unlock the frozen molecules, without disturbing the order of their architecture. Cutting from clear, sound, regularly frozen ice, a slab parallel to the planes of freezing, and sending a sunbeam through such a slab, it liquefies internally at special points, round each point a six-petalled liquid flower of exquisite beauty being formed. Crowds of such flowers are thus produced. From an ice-house we sometimes take blocks of ice presenting misty spaces in the otherwise continuous mass; and when we inquire into the cause of this mistiness, we find it to be due to myriads of small six-petalled flowers, into which the ice has been resolved by the mere heat of conduction.

A moment's further devotion to the crystallization of water will be well repaid; for the sum of qualities which renders this substance fitted to play its part in Nature may well excite wonder and stimulate thought. Like almost all other substances, water is expanded by heat and contracted by cold. Let this expansion and contraction be first illustrated:—

A small flask is filled with coloured water, and stopped with a cork. Through the cork passes a glass tube water-tight, the liquid standing at a certain height in the tube. The flask and its tube resemble the bulb and stem of a thermometer. Applying the heat of a spirit-lamp, the water rises in the tube, and finally trickles over the top. Expansion by heat is thus illustrated.

Removing the lamp and piling a freezing mixture round the flask, the liquid column falls, thus showing the contraction of the water by the cold. But let the freezing mixture continue to act: the falling of the column continues to a certain point; it then ceases. The top of the column remains stationary for some seconds, and afterwards begins to rise. The contraction has ceased, and expansion by cold sets in. Let the expansion continue till the liquid trickles a second time over the top of the tube. The freezing mixture has here produced to all appearance the same effect as the flame. In the case of water, contraction by cold ceases, and expansion by cold sets in at the definite temperature of 39 deg. Fahr. Crystallization has virtually here commenced, the molecules preparing themselves for the subsequent act of solidification, which occurs at 32 deg., and in which the expansion suddenly culminates. In virtue of this expansion, ice, as you know, is lighter than water in the proportion of 8 to 9.[16]

A molecular problem of great interest is here involved, and I wish now to place before you, for the satisfaction of your minds, a possible solution of the problem:—

Consider, then, the ideal case of a number of magnets deprived of weight, but retaining their polar forces. If we had a mobile liquid of the specific gravity of steel, we might, by making the magnets float in it, realize this state of things, for in such a liquid the magnets would neither sink nor swim. Now, the principle of gravitation enunciated by Newton is that every particle of matter, of every kind, attracts every other particle with a force varying inversely as the square of the distance. In virtue of the attraction of gravity, then, the magnets, if perfectly free to move, would slowly approach each other.

But besides the unpolar force of gravity, which belongs to matter in general, the magnets are endowed with the polar force of magnetism. For a time, however, the polar forces do not come sensibly into play. In this condition the magnets resemble our water-molecules at the temperature say of 50 deg.. But the magnets come at length sufficiently near each other to enable their poles to interact. From this point the action ceases to be solely a general attraction of the masses. Attractions of special points of the masses and repulsions of other points now come into play; and it is easy to see that the rearrangement of the magnets consequent upon the introduction of these new forces may be such as to require a greater amount of room. This, I take it, is the case with our water-molecules. Like our ideal magnets, they approach each other for a time as wholes. Previous to reaching the temperature 39 deg. Fahr., the polar forces had doubtless begun to act, but it is at this temperature that their claim to more room exactly balances the contraction due to cold. At lower temperatures, as regards change of volume, the polar forces predominate. But they carry on a struggle with the force of contraction until the freezing temperature is attained. The molecules then close up to form solid crystals, a considerable augmentation of volume being the immediate consequence.

Sec. 3. Ordinary Refraction of Light explained by the Wave Theory.

We have now to exhibit the bearings of this act of crystallization upon optical phenomena. According to the undulatory theory, the velocity of light in water and glass is less than in air. Consider, then, a small portion of a wave issuing from a point of light so distant that the minute area may be regarded as practically plane. Moving vertically downwards, and impinging on a horizontal surface of glass or water, the wave would go through the medium without change of direction. As, however, the velocity in glass or water is less than the velocity in air, the wave would be retarded on passing into the denser medium.



But suppose the wave, before reaching the glass, to be oblique to the surface; that end of the wave which first reaches the medium will be the first retarded by it, the other portions as they enter the glass being retarded in succession. It is easy to see that this retardation of the one end of the wave must cause it to swing round and change its front, so that when the wave has fully entered the glass its course is oblique to its original direction. According to the undulatory theory, light is thus refracted.

With these considerations to guide us, let us follow the course of a beam of monochromatic light through our glass prism. The velocity in air is to its velocity in glass as 3: 2. Let A B C (fig. 25) be the section of our prism, and a b the section of a plane wave approaching it in the direction of the arrow. When it reaches c d, one end of the wave is on the point of entering the glass. Following it still further, it is obvious that while the portion of the wave still in the air passes over the distance c e, the wave in the glass will have passed over only two-thirds of this distance, or d f. The line e f now marks the front of the wave. Immersed wholly in the glass it pursues its way to g h, where the end g of the wave is on the point of escaping into the air. During the time required by the end h of the wave to pass over the distance h k to the surface of the prism, the other end g, moving more rapidly, will have reached the point i. The wave, therefore, has again changed its front, so that after its emergence from the prism it will pass on to l m, and subsequently in the direction of the arrow. The refraction of the beam is thus completely accounted for; and it is, moreover, based upon actual experiment, which proves that the ratio of the velocity of light in glass to its velocity in air is that here mentioned. It is plain that if the change of velocity on entering the glass were greater, the refraction also would be greater.

Sec. 4. Double Refraction of Light explained by the Wave Theory.

The two elements of rapidity of propagation, both of sound and light, in any substance whatever, are elasticity and density, the speed increasing with the former and diminishing with the latter. The enormous velocity of light in stellar space is attainable because the ether is at the same time of infinitesimal density and of enormous elasticity. Now the ether surrounds the atoms of all bodies, but it is not independent of them. In ponderable matter it acts as if its density were increased without a proportionate increase of elasticity; and this accounts for the diminished velocity of light in refracting bodies. We here reach a point of cardinal importance. In virtue of the crystalline architecture that we have been considering, the ether in many crystals possesses different densities, and different elasticities, in different directions; the consequence is, that in such crystals light is transmitted with different velocities. And as refraction depends wholly upon the change of velocity on entering the refracting medium, being greatest where the change of velocity is greatest, we have in many crystals two different refractions. By such crystals a beam of light is divided into two. This effect is called double refraction.

In ordinary water, for example, there is nothing in the grouping of the molecules to interfere with the perfect homogeneity of the ether; but, when water crystallizes to ice, the case is different. In a plate of ice the elasticity of the ether in a direction perpendicular to the surface of freezing is different from what it is parallel to the surface of freezing; ice is, therefore, a double refracting substance. Double refraction is displayed in a particularly impressive manner by Iceland spar, which is crystallized carbonate of lime. The difference of ethereal density in two directions in this crystal is very great, the separation of the beam into the two halves being, therefore, particularly striking.

I am unwilling to quit this subject before raising it to unmistakable clearness in your minds. The vibrations of light being transversal, the elasticity concerned in the propagation of any ray is the elasticity at right angles to the direction of propagation. In Iceland spar there is one direction round which the crystalline molecules are symmetrically built. This direction is called the axis of the crystal. In consequence of this symmetry the elasticity is the same in all directions perpendicular to the axis, and hence a ray transmitted along the axis suffers no double refraction. But the elasticity along the axis is greater than the elasticity at right angles to it. Consider, then, a system of waves crossing the crystal in a direction perpendicular to the axis. Two directions of vibration are open to such waves: the ether particles can vibrate parallel to the axis or perpendicular to it. They do both, and hence immediately divide themselves into two systems propagated with different velocities. Double refraction is the necessary consequence.



By means of Iceland spar cut in the proper direction, double refraction is capable of easy illustration. Causing the beam which builds the image of our carbon-points to pass through the spar, the single image is instantly divided into two. Projecting (by the lens E, fig. 26) an image of the aperture (L) through which the light issues from the electric lamp, and introducing the spar (P), two luminous disks (E O) appear immediately upon the screen instead of one.

The two beams into which the spar divides the single incident-beam have been subjected to the closest examination. They do not behave alike. One of them obeys the ordinary law of refraction discovered by Snell, and is, therefore, called the ordinary ray: its index of refraction is 1.654. The other does not obey this law. Its index of refraction, for example, is not constant, but varies from a maximum of 1.654 to a minimum of 1.483; nor in this case do the incident and refracted rays always lie in the same plane. It is, therefore, called the extraordinary ray. In calc-spar, as just stated, the ordinary ray is the most refracted. One consequence of this merits a passing notice. Pour water and bisulphide of carbon into two cups of the same depth; the cup that contains the more strongly refracting liquid will appear shallower than the other. Place a piece of Iceland spar over a dot of ink; two dots are seen, the one appearing nearer than the other to the eye. The nearest dot belongs to the most strongly refracted ray, exactly as the nearest cup-bottom belongs to the most highly refracting liquid. When you turn the spar round, the extraordinary image of the dot rotates round the ordinary one, which remains fixed. This is also the deportment of our two disks upon the screen.

Sec. 5. Polarization of Light explained by the Wave Theory.

The double refraction of Iceland spar was first treated in a work published by Erasmus Bartholinus, in 1669. Huyghens sought to account for this phenomenon on the principles of the wave theory, and he succeeded in doing so. He, moreover, made highly important observations on the distinctive character of the two beams transmitted by the spar, admitting, with resigned candour, that he had not solved the difficulty, and leaving the solution to future times. Newton, reflecting on the observations of Huyghens, came to the conclusion that each of the beams transmitted by Iceland spar had two sides; and from the analogy of this two-sidedness with the two-endedness of a magnet, wherein consists its polarity, the two beams came subsequently to be described as polarized.

We may begin the study of the polarization of light, with ease and profit, by means of a crystal of tourmaline. But we must start with a clear conception of an ordinary beam of light. It has been already explained that the vibrations of the individual ether-particles are executed across the line of propagation. In the case of ordinary light we are to figure the ether-particles as vibrating in all directions, or azimuths, as it is sometimes expressed, across this line.

Now, in the case of a plate of tourmaline cut parallel to the axis of the crystal, a beam of light incident upon the plate is divided into two, the one vibrating parallel to the axis of the crystal, the other at right angles to the axis. The grouping of the molecules, and of the ether associated with the molecules, reduces all the vibrations incident upon the crystal to these two directions. One of these beams, namely, that whose vibrations are perpendicular to the axis, is quenched with exceeding rapidity by the tourmaline. To such vibrations many specimens of the crystal are highly opaque; so that, after having passed through a very small thickness of the tourmaline, the light emerges with all its vibrations reduced to a single plane. In this condition it is what we call plane polarized light.



A moment's reflection will show that, if what is here stated be correct, on placing a second plate of tourmaline with its axis parallel to the first, the light will pass through both; but that, if the axes be crossed, the light that passes through the one plate will be quenched by the other, a total interception of the light being the consequence. Let us test this conclusion by experiment. The image of a plate of tourmaline (t t, fig. 27) is now before you. I place parallel to it another plate (t' t'): the green of the crystal is a little deepened, nothing more; this agrees with our conclusion. By means of an endless screw, I now turn one of the crystals gradually round, and you observe that as long as the two plates are oblique to each other, a certain portion of light gets through; but that when they are at right angles to each other, the space common to both is a space of darkness (fig. 28). Our conclusion, arrived at prior to experiment, is thus verified.

Let us now return to a single plate; and here let me say that it is on the green light transmitted by the tourmaline that you are to fix your attention. We have to illustrate the two-sidedness of that green light, in contrast to the all-sidedness of ordinary light. The white light surrounding the green image, being ordinary light, is reflected by a plane glass mirror in all directions; the green light, on the contrary, is not so reflected. The image of the tourmaline is now horizontal; reflected upwards, it is still green; reflected sideways, the image is reduced to blackness, because of the incompetency of the green light to be reflected in this direction. Making the plate of tourmaline vertical, and reflecting it as before, it is the light of the upper image that is quenched; the side image now shows the green. This is a result of the greatest significance. If the vibrations of light were longitudinal, like those of sound, you could have no action of this kind; and this very action compels us to assume that the vibrations are transversal. Picture the thing clearly. In the one case the mirror receives, as it were, the impact of the edges of the waves, the green light being then quenched. In the other case the sides of the waves strike the mirror, and the green light is reflected. To render the extinction complete, the light must be received upon the mirror at a special angle. What this angle is we shall learn presently.

The quality of two-sidedness conferred upon light by bi-refracting crystals may also be conferred upon it by ordinary reflection. Malus made this discovery in 1808, while looking through Iceland spar at the light of the sun reflected from the windows of the Luxembourg palace in Paris. I receive upon a plate of window-glass the beam from our lamp; a great portion of the light reflected from the glass is polarized. The vibrations of this reflected beam are executed, for the most part, parallel to the surface of the glass, and when the glass is held so that the beam shall make an angle of 58 deg. with the perpendicular to the glass, the whole of the reflected beam is polarized. It was at this angle that the image of the tourmaline was completely quenched in our former experiment. It is called the polarizing angle.

Sir David Brewster proved the angle of polarization of a medium to be that particular angle at which the refracted and reflected rays inclose a right angle.[17] The polarizing angle augments with the index of refraction. For water it is 521/2 deg.; for glass, as already stated, 58 deg.; while for diamond it is 68 deg..

And now let us try to make substantially the experiment of Malus. The beam from the lamp is received at the proper angle upon a plate of glass and reflected through the spar. Instead of two images, you see but one. So that the light, when polarized, as it now is by reflection, can only get through the spar in one direction, and consequently can produce but one image. Why is this? In the Iceland spar as in the tourmaline, all the vibrations of the ordinary light are reduced to two planes at right angles to each other; but, unlike the tourmaline, both beams are transmitted with equal facility by the spar. The two beams, in short, emergent from the spar, are polarized, their directions of vibration being at right angles to each other. When, therefore, the light is first polarized by reflection, the direction of vibration in the spar which coincides with the direction of vibration of the polarized beam, transmits the beam, and that direction only. Only one image, therefore, is possible under the conditions.

You will now observe that such logic as connects our experiments is simply a transcript of the logic of Nature. On the screen before you are two disks of light produced by the double refraction of Iceland spar. They are, as you know, two images of the aperture through which the light issues from the camera. Placing the tourmaline in front of the aperture, two images of the crystal will also be obtained; but now let us reason out beforehand what is to be expected from this experiment. The light emergent from the tourmaline is polarized. Placing the crystal with its axis horizontal, the vibrations of its transmitted light will be horizontal. Now the spar, as already stated, has two directions of vibration, one of which at the present moment is vertical, the other horizontal. What are we to conclude? That the green light will be transmitted along the latter, which is parallel to the axis of the tourmaline, and not along the former, which is perpendicular to that axis. Hence we may infer that one image of the tourmaline will show the ordinary green light of the crystal, while the other image will be black. Tested by experiment, our reasoning is verified to the letter (fig. 29).



Let us push our test still further. By means of an endless screw, the crystal can be turned ninety degrees round. The black image, as I turn, becomes gradually brighter, and the bright one gradually darker; at an angle of forty-five degrees both images are equally bright (fig. 30); while, when ninety degrees have been obtained, the axis of the crystal being then vertical, the bright and black images have changed places, exactly as reasoning would have led us to suppose (fig. 31).



Considering what has been already said (p. 114) regarding the reflection of light polarized by transmission through tourmaline, you will readily foresee what must occur when we receive upon a plate of glass, held at the polarizing angle, the two beams emergent from our prism of Iceland spar. I cause both beams to pass side by side through the air, catch them on a glass plate, and seek to reflect them upwards. At the polarizing angle one beam only is capable of being thus reflected. Which? Your prompt answer will be, The beam whose vibrations are horizontal (fig. 32). I now turn the glass plate and try to reflect both beams laterally. One of them only is reflected; that, namely, the vibrations of which are vertical (fig. 33). It is plain that, by means either of the tourmaline or the reflecting glass, we can determine in a moment the direction of vibration in any polarized beam.



As already stated, the whole of a beam of ordinary light reflected from glass at the polarizing angle is polarized; a word must now be added regarding the far larger portion of the light which is transmitted by the glass. The transmitted beam contains a quantity of polarized light equal to the reflected beam; but this is only a fraction of the whole transmitted light. By taking two plates of glass instead of one, we augment the quantity of the transmitted polarized light; and by taking a bundle of plates, we so increase the quantity as to render the transmitted beam, for all practical purposes, perfectly polarized. Indeed, bundles of glass plates are often employed as a means of furnishing polarized light. It is important to note that the plane of vibration of this transmitted light is at right angles to that of the reflected light.

One word more. When the tourmalines are crossed, the space where they cross each other is black. But we have seen that the least obliquity on the part of the crystals permits light to get through both. Now suppose, when the two plates are crossed, that we interpose a third plate of tourmaline between them, with its axis oblique to both. A portion of the light transmitted by the first plate will get through this intermediate one. But, after it has got through, its plane of vibration is changed: it is no longer perpendicular to the axis of the crystal in front. Hence it will, in part, get through that crystal. Thus, by pure reasoning, we infer that the interposition of a third plate of tourmaline will in part abolish the darkness produced by the perpendicular crossing of the other two plates. I have not a third plate of tourmaline; but the talc or mica which you employ in your stoves is a more convenient substance, which acts in the same way. Between the crossed tourmalines, I introduce a film of this crystal with its axis oblique to theirs. You see the edge of the film slowly descending, and, as it descends, light takes the place of darkness. The darkness, in fact, seems scraped away, as if it were something material. This effect has been called, naturally but improperly, depolarization. Its proper meaning will be disclosed in our next lecture.

These experiments and reasonings, if only thoroughly studied and understood, will form a solid groundwork for the analysis of the splendid optical phenomena next to be considered.



LECTURE IV.

CHROMATIC PHENOMENA PRODUCED BY CRYSTALS IN POLARIZED LIGHT THE NICOL PRISM POLARIZER AND ANALYZER ACTION OF THICK AND THIN PLATES OF SELENITE COLOURS DEPENDENT ON THICKNESS RESOLUTION OF POLARIZED BEAM INTO TWO OTHERS BY THE SELENITE ONE OF THEM MORE RETARDED THAN THE OTHER RECOMPOUNDING OF THE TWO SYSTEMS OF WAVES BY THE ANALYZER INTERFERENCE THUS RENDERED POSSIBLE CONSEQUENT PRODUCTION OF COLOURS ACTION OF BODIES MECHANICALLY STRAINED OR PRESSED ACTION OF SONOROUS VIBRATIONS ACTION OF GLASS STRAINED OR PRESSED BY HEAT CIRCULAR POLARIZATION CHROMATIC PHENOMENA PRODUCED BY QUARTZ THE MAGNETIZATION OF LIGHT RINGS SURROUNDING THE AXES OF CRYSTALS BIAXAL AND UNIAXAL CRYSTALS GRASP OF THE UNDULATORY THEORY THE COLOUR AND POLARIZATION OF SKY-LIGHT GENERATION OF ARTIFICIAL SKIES.

Sec. 1. Action of Crystals on Polarized Light: the Nicol Prism.

We have this evening to examine and illustrate the chromatic phenomena produced by the action of crystals, and double-refracting bodies generally, upon polarized light, and to apply the Undulatory Theory to their elucidation. For a long time investigators were compelled to employ plates of tourmaline for this purpose, and the progress they made with so defective a means of inquiry is astonishing. But these men had their hearts in their work, and were on this account enabled to extract great results from small instrumental appliances. For our present purpose we need far larger apparatus; and, happily, in these later times this need has been to a great extent satisfied. We have seen and examined the two beams emergent from Iceland spar, and have proved them to be polarized. If, at the sacrifice of half the light, we could abolish one of these, the other would place at our disposal a beam of polarized light, incomparably stronger than any attainable from tourmaline.

The beams, as you know, are refracted differently, and from this, as made plain in Sec.4, Lecture I., we are able to infer that the one may be totally reflected, when the other is not. An able optician, named Nicol, cut a crystal of Iceland spar in two halves in a certain direction. He polished the severed surfaces, and reunited them by Canada balsam, the surface of union being so inclined to the beam traversing the spar that the ordinary ray, which is the most highly refracted, was totally reflected by the balsam, while the extraordinary ray was permitted to pass on.

Let b x, c y (fig. 34) represent the section of an elongated rhomb of Iceland spar cloven from the crystal. Let this rhomb be cut along the plane b c; and the two severed surfaces, after having been polished, reunited by Canada balsam. We learned, in our first lecture, that total reflection only takes place when a ray seeks to escape from a more refracting to a less refracting medium, and that it always, under these circumstances, takes place when the obliquity is sufficient. Now the refractive index of Iceland spar is, for the extraordinary ray less, and for the ordinary greater, than for Canada balsam. Hence, in passing from the spar to the balsam, the extraordinary ray passes from a less refracting to a more refracting medium, where total reflection cannot occur; while the ordinary ray passes from a more refracting to a less refracting medium, where total reflection can occur. The requisite obliquity is secured by making the rhomb of such a length that the plane of which b c is the section shall be perpendicular, or nearly so, to the two end surfaces of the rhomb b x, c y.