The theme: The same arithmetic, renamed
Why a crystal face carries small whole numbers
A crystal face is flat because it lies on a plane of lattice points, and its orientation is therefore named by three integers rather than by two angles. That the integers exist is a theorem about lattices; that they are usually smaller than four is a separate claim about growth, and the two are routinely run together.
The angles belong to the substance, the shape to the specimen
Two crystals of the same mineral can look nothing like each other and still have exactly the same angles between corresponding faces. That is the oldest quantitative law in the subject, and what it measures turns out to be the shape of the unit cell — which means a brass instrument from 1809 was reading lattice parameters a century before anyone knew there were any.
A form is an orbit, and whether it closes is an integer question
Name one face of a crystal and its class names the rest. That set is a form, it is an orbit in exactly the sense this site has used since its first essay, and whether it encloses a volume — whether a crystal could be bounded by it alone — is decided without any lengths or angles entering the calculation anywhere.
Five classes grow the same cube
A crystal's shape is the most obvious thing about it and the least informative. Five of the thirty-two classes produce an identical cube, diffraction cannot see an inversion centre and so collapses the thirty-two to eleven, and the measurements that finally separate them are etch pits, optical rotation and a heated crystal attracting ash.
A twin is a symmetry the lattice has and the crystal does not
Two orientations of one structure, grown together across a boundary the lattice runs straight through. The operation relating them cannot be a symmetry of the crystal, or there would be nothing to see, and it must be a symmetry of the lattice, or the boundary would be a crack — which leaves exactly a coset, and a short computable list.
Twenty-five of the thirty-two can twin, and seven cannot
The number of twin laws available to a crystal is the index of its class in the point group of its lattice, minus one. Doing that arithmetic for all thirty-two classes takes a moment and produces a census with a sharp edge on it — the seven classes that cannot twin this way are exactly the seven that already use everything their lattice has.
Quartz has exactly three twin laws, and its lattice is why
Class 32 on a hexagonal lattice has index four, so three twin laws and no more. They turn out to be the three the mineralogists named — Dauphiné, Brazil and the combination of the two — and reading quartz's lattice off its class instead of measuring it would have produced one law where there are three.
A merohedral twin moves no spot at all
The twin law is a symmetry of the lattice, so the two individuals have reciprocal lattices lying exactly on top of one another. Nothing splits, nothing appears in a new place, and the only thing that changes is that pairs of intensities which were different have been averaged — which produces a diffraction pattern with a symmetry the crystal does not have and no sign that anything is wrong.
How many domains a transition makes is an index
Cool a crystal through a symmetry-lowering transition and it has to choose one of several equally good low-symmetry arrangements. Different parts of it choose differently, and the number of available choices is the index of the new group in the old one — a number available before any crystal is grown, and one of the few predictions in this field that is a count rather than a bound.
The descent of symmetry is a lattice, not a tree
Which classes a crystal can fall to when it loses symmetry, drawn as a graph with the index on every edge. It is routinely called a tree and it is not one — a class can be reached from its parent by several different routes of the same total index, and which route a material takes is a physical question the diagram deliberately leaves open.
The domains a lost translation makes, which nothing optical can see
An ordering transition can leave the crystal class untouched and take away translations instead. The domains that result have the same orientation, the same shape and the same optical properties as each other, and where two of them meet the ordering is simply out of step — a boundary with no change of direction across it and no way to find it except by looking at the ordering itself.
The descent with no shortcut
A subgroup can give up operations, or it can give up translations. Hermann's theorem says that a *maximal* subgroup does one or the other and never both at once — which is why a crystal losing symmetry can be followed one clean step at a time, and why every route from p6m down to p1 has exactly three steps.
Two origins for one group
The International Tables place the origin at the point of highest site symmetry, and also at a centre of inversion. For twenty-four of the two hundred and thirty those are different points, so the group is printed twice with every coordinate shifted — and nothing in the symbol says which table a structure was written against.
The same pattern, described twice
Two coordinate lists for one structure can disagree in every number and describe exactly the same arrangement, because a group does not fix its own origin. The operations that may be applied to a description without changing what it describes are its normaliser, and they can be found by looking at pictures rather than at matrices.
Two hundred and forty-seven descents, or two hundred and twelve
How many distinct ways can a crystal lose symmetry? Counting parent-and-child pairs up to conjugacy in the parent gives 247. The standard enumeration in the ferroics literature gives 212, and the operation that merges the extra thirty-five turns out to be a rotation through forty-five degrees — which no lattice may have, and which no integer matrix in a lattice basis can therefore express.
A layer is not a wallpaper
A sheet repeats in two directions and lives in three, and its symmetry group is not one of the seventeen. There are eighty of them, the difference between one and another is a single sign per operation, and the arithmetic that supplies those signs is the arithmetic of a two-coloured pattern.
Turn a lattice against itself and almost nothing lines up
Two copies of one lattice rotated about a shared point share that point and, at almost every angle, no other. At a discrete set of angles they share a whole sublattice — one point in three, or five, or seven — and a grain boundary built on such an orientation costs a fraction of what a general one costs, because a fraction of the atoms are already where both sides want them.
Two different lattices never coincide, and the question becomes how nearly
Grow one crystal on another and their spacings are in a ratio that no measurement ever makes rational, so exact coincidence is unavailable in principle. What is left is the best rational approximation inside a tolerable repeat — a quantity that jumps rather than drifts as the ratio changes, and whose acceptability is decided by elasticity rather than by arithmetic.
Seventeen dollars
Conway's magic theorem prices the features a folded-up pattern can have — a handle costs two, a mirror boundary one, a cone point of order n almost one — and requires the total to come to exactly two. There are seventeen ways to pay, and the classification falls out of an accounting identity that never mentions a lattice.
The reflections a superlattice adds
Centring a lattice makes reflections vanish. Ordering two kinds of atom onto a sublattice makes new ones appear, exactly n − 1 of them per parent cell, and their intensity is a difference rather than a sum — which is why an ordered alloy of two neighbouring elements can be invisible to X-rays and obvious to neutrons.
The operation that reverses time
A magnetic moment is a current loop, so running time backwards reverses it and moves nothing. Admitting that as a symmetry operation turns the thirty-two crystal classes into a hundred and twenty-two — and eight of the merges needed to reach that number require a rotation no lattice may have.
Two stackings, one density
Stack spheres as tightly as they will go and the third layer has a free choice. Both answers fill exactly the same fraction of space and give every sphere the same twelve neighbours — and their space groups are Fm3̅m and P6₃/mmc, which is the only thing that tells them apart.
What a cleave leaves
A surface is a crystal that has been cut, and the symmetry it presents is what the space group leaves of itself on that plane. Two conditions decide it — the plane must not tilt, and it must come back to its own height — and the answer changes with where the cut was made.
One class, two names
Hermann–Mauguin names directions and Schoenflies names a construction, and the two are derived here from the same integer matrices by computations that share no step. Neither can be obtained from the other without going back to the group — which is why a molecule has one kind of symbol and a crystal has both.