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Pyroelectric Materials
Pyroelectric Materials
Physics and Applications
Ashim Kumar Bain

Prem Chand
Authors All books published by WILEY-VCH are carefully
produced. Nevertheless, authors, editors, and
Prof. Ashim Kumar Bain publisher do not warrant the information
University of Birmingham contained in these books, including this book,
Electronic, Electrical & Systems Engin. to be free of errors. Readers are advised to keep
B15 2TT Edgbaston in mind that statements, data, illustrations,
United Kingdom procedural details or other items may
inadvertently be inaccurate.
Prof. Prem Chand
IIT Kanpur
Department of Physics Library of Congress Card No.: applied for
208016 Kanpur
India British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available
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v
Contents
Preface ix
1 Fundamentals of Dielectrics 1
1.1 Dielectrics 1
1.1.1 Polarization of Dielectrics 2
1.1.2 Dispersion of Dielectric Polarization 3
1.1.2.1 Electronic Polarization 3
1.1.2.2 Ionic Polarization 4
1.1.2.3 Orientation Polarization 4
1.1.2.4 Space Charge Polarization 4
1.1.3 Dielectric Relaxation 5
1.1.4 Debye Relaxation 6
1.1.5 Molecular Theory of Induced Charges in a Dielectric 6
1.1.6 Capacitance of a Parallel Plate Capacitor 7
1.1.7 Electric Displacement Field, Dielectric Constant, and Electric
Susceptibility 9
1.1.8 Local Field in a Dielectric 10
1.1.8.1 Lorentz Field, E2 11
1.1.8.2 Field of Dipoles Inside Cavity, E3 11
1.1.9 Dielectrics Losses 12
1.1.9.1 Dielectric Loss Angle 13
1.1.9.2 Total and Specific Dielectric Losses 14
1.1.10 Dielectrics Breakdown 15
References 16
2 Pyroelectricity 19
2.1 Introduction 19
2.2 History of Pyroelectricity 21
2.3 Theory of Pyroelectricity 32
2.4 Simple Model of Pyroelectric Effect 33
2.5 Pyroelectric Crystal Symmetry 36
2.6 Piezoelectricity 37
vi Contents
2.7 Ferroelectricity 39
2.7.1 Ferroelectric Phase Transitions 40
2.7.2 Ferroelectric Domains 42
2.7.3 Ferroelectric Domain Wall Motion 42
2.7.4 Soft Mode 45
2.7.4.1 Zone-center Phonons 46
2.7.4.2 Zone-boundary Phonons 46
References 47
3 Pyroelectric Materials and Applications 55

3.1 Introduction 55
3.2 Theory of Pyroelectric Detectors 57
3.3 Material Figure-of-Merits 62
3.4 Classification of Pyroelectric Materials 62
3.4.1 Single Crystals 63
3.4.1.1 Triglycine Sulphate 63
3.4.1.2 Lithium Tantalate (LT) and Lithium Niobate (LN) 67
3.4.1.3 Barium Strontium Titanate (BST) 72
3.4.1.4 Strontium Barium Niobite (SBN) 75
3.4.2 Perovskite Ceramics 77
3.4.2.1 Modified Lead Zirconate (PZ) 78
3.4.2.2 Modified Lead Titanate (PT) 85
3.4.3 Organic Polymers 87
3.4.4 Ceramic-Polymer Composites 90
3.4.5 Lead-Free Ceramics 96
3.4.6 Other Pyroelectric Materials 97
3.4.6.1 Aluminum Nitride (AlN) 98
3.4.6.2 Gallium Nitride (GaN) 102
3.4.6.3 Zinc Oxide (ZnO) 103
References 108
4 Pyroelectric Infrared Detector 119

4.1 Introduction 119
4.2 Device Configurations 120
4.2.1 Thick Film Detectors 120
4.2.2 Thin Film Detectors 123
4.2.3 Hybrid Focal Plane Array Detector 126
4.2.4 Linear Array Detector 127
4.2.4.1 Detector Chip Technology 127
4.2.4.2 Detector Assembly 129
4.2.4.3 Camera System 129
4.2.5 Periodic Domain TFLTTM Detector 131
4.2.5.1 TFLTTM Pyroelectric Detector Fabrication 132
4.2.5.2 TFLTTM Attached to Metalized Silicon 134
4.2.5.3 TFLTTM on Ceramic 135
Contents vii
4.2.5.4 Large Aperture Devices 136

4.2.5.5 Domain Engineered TFLTTM Device 137
4.2.6 Terahertz Thermal Detector 139
4.2.7 PVDF Polymer Detector 140
4.2.7.1 Self-absorbing Layer Structure 140
4.2.7.2 PVDF Pyroelectric Sensor Assembly 141
4.2.7.3 Sensor Array Specification and Performance 142
4.2.8 TFP Polymer Detector 143
4.2.9 Tetraaminodiphenyl (TADPh) Polymer Detector 146
4.2.9.1 Detector Design 147
4.2.9.2 Detector Sensitivity 147
4.2.10 Integrated Resonant Absorber Pyroelectric Detector 148
4.2.10.1 Detector Design 149
4.2.10.2 Detector Sensitivity 150
4.2.11 Resonant IR Detector 150
4.2.11.1 Principles of Operation of Resonant Detector 151
4.2.11.2 IR Absorbing Coatings and Structures 152
4.2.11.3 Differential Operation and Detector Arrays 154
4.2.11.4 Performance of GaN Resonators 155
4.2.12 Plasmonic IR Detector 155
4.2.12.1 Structure Design 156
4.2.12.2 Fabrication and Performance of the Detector 158
4.2.13 Graphene Pyroelectric Bolometer 161
4.2.13.1 Device Architecture 163
4.2.13.2 Device Performance 164
References 165
5 Pyroelectric Energy Harvesting 173

5.2 Theory of Pyroelectric Energy Harvesting 175
5.3 Pyroelectricity in Ferroelectric Materials 178
5.3.1 Thermodynamic Cycles of PyEH 178
5.3.1.1 Carnot Cycle 178
5.3.1.2 Ericsson Cycle 179
5.3.1.3 Olsen Cycle 180
5.4 Pyroelectric Generators 181
5.5 Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 183
5.5.1 Polymer-Based Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 183
5.5.1.1 PyNGs Driven by Various Environmental Conditions 183
5.5.1.2 Development of Pyroelectric Materials 186
5.5.1.3 Wearable Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 188
5.5.1.4 Hybrid Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 191
5.5.2 Ceramic-Based Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 198
5.5.2.1 ZnO-Based Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 198
5.5.2.2 PZT-Based Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 201
viii Contents
5.5.2.3 Lead-Free Ceramic-Based Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 204

5.5.3 Thermal Nanophotonic-Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 208
5.5.4 Challenges and Perspectives of Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 210
References 211
6 Pyroelectric Fusion 221

6.2 History of Pyroelectric Fusion 221
6.3 Pyroelectric Neutron Generators 224
6.4 Pyroelectric X-ray Generators 229
6.4.1 Applications 231
6.4.2 Features 231
References 233
Index 237
ix
Preface
Pyroelectricity was probably first observed by the Greeks more than 24 centuries ago.
The philosopher Theophrastus wrote that lyngourion (most likely the mineral tour-
maline) had the property of attracting straws and bits of wood. For two millennia,
the peculiar properties of tourmaline were more a part of mythology than of science.
In the eighteenth century, pyroelectric studies made a major contribution to the
development of our understanding of electrostatics. In the nineteenth, research on
pyroelectricity added to our knowledge of mineralogy, thermodynamics, and crystal
physics. The field of pyroelectricity flourished in the twentieth century with many
applications, particularly in infrared detection and thermal imaging. Pyroelectric
sensors have been carried in many space missions and have contributed significantly
to our astronomical knowledge.
Recently, pyroelectricity has become one of the most studied phenomena in the
scientific community due to the various applications of pyroelectric materials in
electronic devices. This book describes the basic physical properties, structure, and
applications of pyroelectric materials.
The first chapter of this book deals with the basic concepts of dielectrics.
Chapter 2 describes the basic concepts of pyroelectricity, theory of pyroelectricity,
and history of pyroelectricity. Chapter 3 presents the physical properties, structure,
and applications of different pyroelectric materials developed up to the recent
time. Chapter 4 provides up-to-date information on the design and applications of
various pyroelectric IR detectors. Chapter 5 gives an overview of the progress in
the development of pyroelectric nanogenerators (PyNGs) for an energy harvesting
system that uses environmental or artificial energies such as the sun, body heat,
and heaters. The last chapter discusses the latest research results on pyroelectric
fusion and provides information on newly designed pyroelectric neutron generators
and X-ray generators (prototype portable).
I sincerely hope that this book will be very useful for scientific community includ-
ing students, teachers, and researchers working in this field.
Finally, I would like to thank the Wiley-VCH publishing team for their outstanding
support.
Birmingham, UK Ashim Kumar Bain

I.I.T. Kanpur, India Prem Chand
July 2022
1
Fundamentals of Dielectrics
1.1 Dielectrics
A dielectric material is a substance that is a poor conductor of electricity. On the basis
of band structure, the dielectric materials have an energy gap of 3 eV or more. This
large magnitude of energy gap precludes the possibility of electrons being excited
from the valence band to the conduction band by thermal means. In electromag-
netism, a dielectric (or dielectric material or dielectric medium) is an electrical insu-
lator that can be polarized by an applied electric field. When a dielectric material is
placed in an electric field, electric charges do not flow through the material as they
do in an electrical conductor, but instead only slightly shift from their average equi-
librium positions, causing dielectric polarization (Figure 1.1). Because of dielectric
polarization, positive charges are displaced in the direction of the field and negative
charges shift in the direction opposite to the field (e.g. if the field is moving parallel to
the positive x-axis, the negative charges will shift in the negative x-direction). This
creates an internal electric field that reduces the overall field within the dielectric
itself. If a dielectric is composed of weakly bonded molecules, those molecules not
only become polarized but also reorient so that their symmetry axes align to the field.
The study of dielectric properties concerns storage and dissipation of electric and
magnetic energy in materials [1, 2]. Dielectrics are important for explaining various
phenomena in electronics, optics, solid-state physics, and cell biophysics [3, 4].
Although the term insulator implies low electrical conduction, dielectric typically
means materials with a high polarizability. The latter is expressed by a number called
the relative permittivity. The term insulator is generally used to indicate electrical
obstruction, while the term dielectric is used to indicate the energy-storing capacity
of the material (by means of polarization). A common example of a dielectric is the
electrically insulating material between the metallic plates of a capacitor. The polar-
ization of the dielectric by the applied electric field increases the capacitor’s surface
charge for the given electric field strength.
The term dielectric was coined by William Whewell (from dia + electric) in
response to a request from Michael Faraday [5, 6]. A perfect dielectric is a material
with zero electrical conductivity (cf. perfect conductor infinite electrical conduc-
tivity), thus exhibiting only a displacement current; therefore, it stores and returns
electrical energy as if it were an ideal capacitor.
Pyroelectric Materials: Physics and Applications, First Edition. Ashim Kumar Bain and Prem Chand.
© 2023 WILEY-VCH GmbH. Published 2023 by WILEY-VCH GmbH.
2 1 Fundamentals of Dielectrics
Charge Figure 1.1 A polarized dielectric

material.
+Q –Q
Dielectric
Electric Plate
field E area A
Plate separation d
1.1.1 Polarization of Dielectrics

The factors contributing to the polarization of dielectric molecules are as follows:
the formation of dipole moments and their orientation relative to the electric field.
If, in a dielectric, the molecules forming elementary dipole moments are composed
of neutral particles such as atoms, the electric field shifts the electric charge of an
atomic shell against the direction of field and the nucleus is moved in with the field.
Thus, the center of gravity of the positive and negative charges is displaced from
the center of the atom and an “induced dipole moment” is produced, as shown in
Figure 1.2a. This part of polarization of molecules is called electronic (Pe ). The elec-
tronic polarization is independent of temperature, but it is directly proportional to
the field strength.
If the molecule producing an elementary dipole moment is made of ions of oppo-
site signs, the following process occurs when the dielectric is placed into an electric
field: the positive ions leave their equilibrium positions and move in the direction
of field, and the negative ions are displaced against the direction of field. This dis-
placement of ions or their groups in a dielectric initiates an ionic polarization (Pi )
of molecules, as shown in Figure 1.2b. The ionic polarization is also independent of
temperature, but it depends on the binding energy of particles in the molecule and
in the lattice of the dielectric.
E Figure 1.2 Polarization

No field + –
processes: (a) electronic
polarization, (b) ionic
+ (a) – +
polarization, (c) orientational
polarization, and (d) space
charge polarization.
– + (b) – +
(c)
(d)
1.1 Dielectrics 3
The asymmetric distribution of charge between different atoms in a molecule

produces permanent dipole moments in the molecules of a dielectric. Under the
action of an electric field, these permanent dipoles are rotated into the direction of
the field and thus contribute to polarization. In this case, we speak about the orien-
tational polarization (Po ), as shown in Figure 1.2c. The orientational polarization is
dependent on temperature. With increasing temperature, the thermal energy tends
to randomize the alignment of the permanent dipoles inside the materials.
In real dielectrics, free charges may exist, which, under the action of an electric
field, move through the dielectric and are captured by various defects within the
dielectric without coming into contact with the electrodes. The free charges then
form regions with a surface or a space charge, which in turn produces a dipole
moment, also contributing to the polarization of a dielectric. This mechanism ini-
tiates a space (surface) charge polarization (Ps ) inside the dielectric, as shown in
Figure 1.2d. Like the orientational polarization, the space charge polarization is also
a function of temperature, which, in most cases, increases with temperature.
The total polarization of a dielectric may simultaneously involve all the four
mechanisms. If we assume that they are independent, we can write the total
polarization of a dielectric material as the sum of the contributions from the four
sources described earlier:
Ptotal = Pe + Pi + Po + Ps (1.1)
where the subscripts on the right refer to the four types: electronic, ionic,
orientational, and space charge polarization, respectively.
1.1.2 Dispersion of Dielectric Polarization

In general, a material cannot polarize instantaneously in response to an applied field.
The dielectric polarization process can be expressed as a function of temperature.
[ ( )]
t
P(t) = P 1 − exp − (1.2)
tr
where P is the maximum polarization attained on application of the electric field,
and tr is the relaxation time for the particular polarization process. The relaxation
time tr is the time taken for a polarization process to reach 63% of the maximum
value.
The relaxation time varies widely on different polarization processes. There are
a number of polarization mechanisms, as shown in Figure 1.3. The most common,
starting from high frequencies, are given in the subsequent section.
1.1.2.1 Electronic Polarization

This process occurs in an atom when the electric field displaces the electron den-
sity relative to the nucleus it surrounds. Electronic polarization may be understood
by assuming an atom as a point nucleus surrounded by spherical electron cloud of
uniform charge density. Electrons have very small mass and are therefore able to
follow the high-frequency fields up to the optical range. It is an extremely rapid pro-
cess and is essentially complete at the instant the voltage is applied. Even when the
ε′, ε″ Relaxations
Space charge Resonances

Dipoles
Ions Electrons
ε′
ε″
1
10 104 108 1012 1016 1020

Frequency (Hz)
Figure 1.3 Frequency dependence of polarization dispersion.
frequency of the applied voltage is very high in the optical range (∼1015 Hz), the
electronic polarization occurs during every cycle of the applied voltage.
1.1.2.2 Ionic Polarization

This process is associated with the relative motions of cations and anions in an
electric field. Ionic polarization is slower than electronic polarization, as the dis-
placement involved here is that of much heavier ion as compared to the electron
cloud. The frequency with which ions can be displaced over a small fraction of the
interatomic distance will be of the same order as the lattice vibration frequency
(∼1013 Hz). If an electric field of frequency in the optical range (∼1015 Hz) is applied,
the ions do not respond at all, as the time required by an ion for one vibration is
100 times larger than the period of the applied voltage. Therefore, there is no ionic
polarization at optical frequencies.
1.1.2.3 Orientation Polarization

It is slower than ionic polarization. Orientation polarization arises from the rotation
of molecular dipoles in the field. It is easier for the polar molecules to reorient them-
selves in a liquid than in solid. Orientation polarization occurs when the frequency
of the applied voltage is in the audio range.
1.1.2.4 Space Charge Polarization

It is the slowest process, as it involves the diffusion of ions over several interatomic
distances. The relaxation time for this process is related to the frequency of successful
jumps of ions under the influence of the applied field. Space charge polarizations
often occur in the kilohertz range or even lower.
Referring to Figure 1.3, all the four types of polarization are present at machine
frequencies. As the frequency increases, space charge, orientation, and ionic polar-
ization become inoperative in that order. When several polarization processes occur
in a material, it follows that the dielectric constant will decrease with increasing fre-
quency of the applied voltage. When the period of the applied voltage is much larger
than the relaxation time of a polarization process, the polarization is completed at
1.1 Dielectrics 5
any instant during each cycle, and when the period of the applied voltage is much
shorter than the relaxation time for a polarization process, the polarization does not
occur at all. But when the period of the applied voltage is in the same range as the
relaxation time, resonance occurs.
At high frequencies, usually microwave and beyond – the processes that take
place are undamped and are called “resonances.” Real dielectric materials have
several such resonances due to ionic and electronic polarization. At frequencies
below microwaves, the polarization processes are heavily damped and are called
“relaxations.” In physics, dielectric dispersion is the dependence of the permittivity
of a dielectric material on the frequency of an applied electric field. This is because
there is a lag between changes in polarization and changes in the electric field. The
permittivity of the dielectric is a complicated function of frequency of the electric
field. Dielectric dispersion is very important for the applications of dielectric
materials and for the analysis of polarization systems.
This is one instance of a general phenomenon known as material dispersion:
a frequency-dependent response of a medium for wave propagation.
When the frequency becomes higher:
● dipolar polarization can no longer follow the oscillations of the electric field in the
microwave region around 1010 Hz
● ionic polarization and molecular distortion polarization can no longer track the
electric field past the infrared or far-infrared region around 1013 Hz
● electronic polarization loses its response in the ultraviolet region around 1015 Hz.
In the frequency region above ultraviolet, permittivity approaches the constant 𝜀0
in every substance, where 𝜀0 is the permittivity of the free space. Because permittivity
indicates the strength of the relation between an electric field and polarization, if a
polarization process loses its response, permittivity decreases.
The effect of temperature on the relative permittivity of a material can be twofold.
In orientation polarization, the randomizing action of thermal energy decreases
the tendency for the permanent dipoles to align themselves in the applied field.
This results in a decrease in the relative permittivity with increasing temperature.
The other effect of temperature is to facilitate the diffusion of ions in space charge
polarization. Thermal energy may aid in overcoming the activation barrier for the
orientation of relatively large polar molecules in the direction of the field.
1.1.3 Dielectric Relaxation

Dielectric relaxation is the momentary delay (or lag) in the dielectric constant of a
material. This is usually caused by the delay in molecular polarization with respect
to a changing electric field in a dielectric medium (e.g. inside capacitors or between
two large conducting surfaces). Dielectric relaxation in changing electric fields could
be considered analogous to hysteresis in changing magnetic fields (e.g. in inductor
or transformer cores).
Relaxation in general is a delay or lag in the response of a linear system, and there-
fore, dielectric relaxation is measured relative to the expected linear steady state
(equilibrium) dielectric values. The time lag between electrical field and polarization
implies an irreversible degradation of Gibbs free energy.
In physics, dielectric relaxation refers to the relaxation response of a dielectric
medium to an external, oscillating electric field. This relaxation is often described
in terms of permittivity as a function of frequency, which can, for ideal systems,
be described by the Debye equation. On the other hand, the distortion related to
ionic and electronic polarization shows behavior of the resonance or oscillator type.
The character of the distortion process depends on the structure, composition, and
surroundings of the sample.
1.1.4 Debye Relaxation

Debye relaxation is the dielectric relaxation response of an ideal, noninteracting
population of dipoles to an alternating external electric field. It is usually expressed
in the complex permittivity 𝜀 of a medium as a function of the field’s frequency 𝜔:
Δ𝜀
𝜀(𝜔) = 𝜀∞ + (1.3)
1 − i𝜔𝜏
where 𝜀∞ is the permittivity at the high-frequency limit (i.e., 𝜔 → ∞), Δ𝜀 = 𝜀s − 𝜀∞
where 𝜀s is the static, low-frequency (i.e., 𝜔 → 0) permittivity, and 𝜏 is the char-
acteristic relaxation time of the medium. Separating into the real part 𝜀′ and the
imaginary part 𝜀′′ of the complex dielectric permittivity yields [7]:
𝜀 −𝜀
𝜀′ = 𝜀∞ + s 2∞2 (1.4)
1+𝜔 𝜏
(𝜀 − 𝜀∞ )𝜔𝜏
𝜀′′ = s (1.5)
1 + 𝜔2𝜏 2
These are the Debye equations, and we find that they are reasonably applicable to
most dispersions at electrical frequencies. The dielectric loss is also represented by:
𝜀′′ (𝜀 − 𝜀∞ )𝜔𝜏
tan 𝛿 = = s (1.6)
𝜀′ 𝜀s + 𝜀∞ 𝜔2 𝜏 2
This relaxation model was introduced by and named after the physicist Peter
Debye [8]. It is characteristic for dynamic polarization with only one relaxation time.
1.1.5 Molecular Theory of Induced Charges in a Dielectric

A dielectric contains no free charges; then how it is possible for an induced charge
to appear on the surface of a dielectric when placed in an electric field? This can
be explained by the molecular viewpoint of dielectric. The dielectrics are classified
into polar and nonpolar. A nonpolar molecule is one in which the center of grav-
ity of positive and negative charges normally coincides, while a polar molecule is
one where they do not coincide. Polar molecules, therefore, have permanent dipole
moments. In the absence of an external field, these dipoles are oriented at random.
But strong field orients more dipoles in the direction of the field. The charges of a
nonpolar molecule suffer a small displacement when placed in an electric field.
1.1 Dielectrics 7
Figure 1.4 The

depolarization field E 1 is
opposite to P. The fictitious
surface charges are E0 E1 P
indicated: the field of these
charges is E 1 within the
ellipsoid.
The molecules are said to become polarized by the field and are called induced
dipoles. Therefore, the dielectrics, both polar and nonpolar, behave in the same way
under the influence of external electric field. We can imagine that these dipoles in
the applied electric field can have excess negative charges on one surface and positive
charges on the opposite surface, as shown in Figure 1.4.
These charges are not free, but each is bound to a molecule lying in or near the
surface. The net charge per unit volume within the rest of the dielectric medium is
zero. The electric field E1 set up by the induced charge always opposes the applied
field E0 . The resultant field E is the vector sum of these two. That is,
E = E𝟎 + E𝟏 (1.7)
The field E1 is called the depolarization field; this is because within the body, it
tends to oppose the applied field E0 as shown in Figure 1.4. The resultant field E
points to the same direction as E0 but is smaller in magnitude. This leads to the con-
clusion that if a dielectric is placed in an electric field, the induced surface charges
appear, which tend to weaken the original field within the dielectric. Thus, we can
define the dielectric constant (k) or relative permittivity (𝜀r ) as the ratio of the mag-
nitude of the applied field E0 to the resultant field E. Then,
E0 V
= 0 = k = 𝜀r (1.8)
E V
where V 0 is the potential difference without any medium and V is the same with a
dielectric medium in between the capacitor plates.
Therefore, for same charges Q, the ratio of capacitance with dielectric C and capac-
itance without dielectric (for free space) C0 will be
Q
C V V0 E
= Q
= = 0 = k = 𝜀r (1.9)
C0 V E
V0
From the above definition of k, the dielectric constant or permittivity for free space
is unity. Obviously, k is a dimensionless quantity.
1.1.6 Capacitance of a Parallel Plate Capacitor

If a constant voltage V 0 is applied to a plane condenser with a vacuum capacity C0 ,
a charge Q of density 𝜎 = Q/A is set up on the condenser with area A and distance of
separation d between the plates (Figure 1.4). From the application of Gauss’s law, we
know that the electric field intensity between two plates with a vacuum is E = 𝜎/𝜀0 .
The potential difference V 0 is the work done in carrying a unit charge from one
plate to the other. Hence,
( ) ( )
𝜎 Qd
V0 = Ed = d= (1.10)
𝜀0 𝜀0 A
Rearranging the relation (1.9), we can write
( )
Q 𝜀0 A
= (1.11)
V0 d
The capacitance C0 can be written as:
( )
Q 𝜀0 A
C0 = = (1.12)
V0 d
The capacitance C of the capacitor with dielectric medium can be written as:
A
C=𝜀 (1.13)
d
where 𝜀 is the permittivity (absolute permittivity) of dielectric medium between
the capacitor plates. The permittivity (𝜀) is often represented by the relative per-
mittivity (𝜀r ), which is the ratio of the absolute permittivity (𝜀) and the vacuum
permittivity (𝜀0 ).
𝜀
k = 𝜀r = (1.14)
𝜀0
Rearranging relations (1.13) and (1.14), we can write
( ) ( )
A A
C = 𝜀 r 𝜀0 = k𝜀0 (1.15)
d d
Relation (1.15) can be expressed in the rationalized form in the SI system by the
formula:
( ) ( )
A A
C = 𝜀r 𝜀 0 = 𝜀r (8.854 × 10−12 ) F (1.16)
d d
where d is in meters and A is in square meters. Normalized units in the cgs electro-
static system can be expressed by the formula:
( )( )
1 A
C = 𝜀r cm (1.17)
4𝜋 d
where d is in centimeters and A in square centimeters.
Sample Problem 1.1

A parallel-plate capacitor of area A = 4 × 10−2 m2 and plate separation d = 2 × 10−2 m
is raised to a potential difference V 0 = 100 V by connecting a battery when there is
no dielectric in between the plates.
(a) Calculate the capacitance C0 of the capacitor. (b) What is the free charge
appeared on the plates?
(a) From Eq. (1.12), the capacitance of the capacitor:
𝜀0 A (8.85 × 10−12 F∕m)(4 × 10−2 m2 )
C0 = =
d 2 × 10−2 m
−12
= 17.8 × 10 F = 17.8 pF (Answer).
1.1 Dielectrics 9
(b) From Eq. (1.12), the free charge:

Q = C0 V0 = 17.8 × 10−12 F × 100 V = 17.8 × 10−10 C (Answer).
Sample Problem 1.2

Calculate the dielectric constant of a barium titanate crystal, which when inserted
in a parallel plate capacitor of area A = 10 mm × 10 mm and distance of separation
of d = 2 mm, gives a capacitance of 10−9 F.
From Eq. (1.15), the dielectric constant of the medium between the capacitor
plates:
( )
C d 10−9 F × 2 × 10−3 m
k= = = 2259 (Answer).
𝜀0 A 8.854 × 10−12 F∕m × 102 × 10−6 m2
Sample Problem 1.3

A capacitor of 1 nF is required. If a dielectric material of thickness 0.1 mm and
relative permittivity 5.4 is available, determine the required plate area.
From Eq. (1.15), the area of the capacitor plates:
Cd 1 × 10−9 F × 0.1 × 10−3 m
A= = = 0.00209 m2 = 20.9 cm2 (Answer).
𝜀0 𝜀r 8.854 × 10−12 F∕m × 5.4
1.1.7 Electric Displacement Field, Dielectric Constant, and Electric

Susceptibility
In physics, the electric displacement field (denoted by D) or electric induction is a
vector field that appears in Maxwell’s equations. It accounts for the effects of free
and bound charge within materials. “D” stands for “displacement,” as in the related
concept of displacement current in dielectrics. In free space, the electric displace-
ment field is equivalent to flux density, a concept that lends the understanding of
Gauss’s law.
In a dielectric material, the presence of an electric field E causes the bound charges
in the material (atomic nuclei and their electrons) to slightly separate, inducing a
local electric dipole moment. The electric displacement field “D” is defined as:
D = 𝜀0 E + P (1.18)
where 𝜀0 is the vacuum permittivity (also called permittivity of free space), and P is
the (macroscopic) density of the permanent and induced electric dipole moments in
the material, called the polarization density.
In a linear, homogeneous, isotropic dielectric with instantaneous response to
changes in the electric field, P depends linearly on the electric field,
P = 𝜀0 χE (1.19)
where the constant of proportionality 𝜒 is called the electric susceptibility of the
material. Now, rearranging relations (1.18) and (1.19), we can write
D = 𝜀0 (1 + 𝜒)E = 𝜀E (1.20)
where 𝜀 = 𝜀0 𝜀r is the permittivity, and 𝜀r = (1 + 𝜒) is the relative permittivity of the

material.
In a linear, homogeneous, and isotropic media, 𝜀 is a constant. However, in
a linear anisotropic media, it is a tensor, and in nonhomogeneous media, it is
a function of position inside the medium. It may also depend upon the electric
field (nonlinear materials) and have a time-dependent response. Explicit time
dependence can arise if the materials are physically moving or changing in time
(e.g. reflections off a moving interface give rise to Doppler shifts). A different form
of time dependence can arise in a time-invariant medium, as there can be a time
delay between the imposition of the electric field and the resulting polarization of
the material. In this case, P is a convolution of the impulse response susceptibility 𝜒
and the electric field E. Such a convolution takes on a simpler form in the frequency
domain: by Fourier transforming the relationship and applying the convolution
theorem, one obtains the following relation for a linear time-invariant medium:
D(𝜔) = 𝜀(𝜔)E(𝜔) (1.21)
where 𝜔 is the frequency of the applied field. The constraint of causality leads
to the Kramers–Kronig relations, which place limitations upon the form of the
frequency dependence. The phenomenon of a frequency-dependent permittivity is
an example of material dispersion. In fact, all physical materials have some material
dispersion because they cannot respond instantaneously to applied fields, but for
many problems (those concerned with a narrow enough bandwidth), the frequency
dependence of ε can be neglected.
1.1.8 Local Field in a Dielectric

We now develop an expression for the local field at a general lattice site, not nec-
essarily of cubic symmetry. To evaluate Eloc , we must calculate the total field acting
on a certain typical dipole; this field is due to the external field as well as all other
dipoles in the system. This was done by Lorentz as follows: the dipole is imagined
to be surrounded by a spherical cavity whose radius R is sufficiently large that the
matrix lying outside it may be treated as a continuous medium as far as the dipole is
concerned (Figure 1.5a). The interaction of our dipole with the other dipoles lying
inside the cavity is, however, to be treated microscopically, which is necessary since
the discrete nature of the medium very close to the dipoles should be taken into
account. The local field, acting on the central dipole, is thus given by the sum
Eloc = E0 + E1 + E2 + E3 (1.22)
where E0 is the external field; E1 is the depolarization field, that is, the field due to the
polarization charges lying at the external surfaces of the sample; E2 is the field due
to the polarization charges lying on the surface of the Lorentz sphere (Figure 1.5b),
which is known as Lorentz field; and E3 is the field due to other dipoles lying within
the sphere.
It is important to note that the part of the medium between the sphere and the
external surface does not contribute anything since the volume polarization charges
1.1 Dielectrics 11
ε0
Central
dipole ε1
θ
R R
ε2
(a) (b)
Figure 1.5 (a) The procedure for computing the local field. (b) The procedure for
calculating E 2 , the field due to the polarization charge on the surface of the Lorentz sphere.
compensate each other, resulting in a zero net charge in this region. The contribution
E1 + E2 + E3 to the local field is nothing but the total field at one atom caused by the
dipole moments of all the other atoms in the specimen. Dipoles at distances greater
than perhaps 10 lattice constants from the reference site make a smoothly varying
contribution. It is convenient to let the interior surface be spherical.
1.1.8.1 Lorentz Field, E 2

The polarization charges on the surface of the Lorentz cavity may be considered as
forming a continuous distribution. The field due to the charge at a point located at
the center of the sphere is, according to Coulomb’s law, given by
P
E𝟐 = (1.23)
3𝜀0
1.1.8.2 Field of Dipoles Inside Cavity, E 3

The field E3 due to the dipoles within the spherical cavity is the only term that
depends on the crystal structure. For a reference site with cubic surroundings in
a sphere, E3 = 0 if all the atoms may be replaced by point dipoles parallel to each
other. The total local field at a cubic site is then,
P P
Eloc = E𝟎 + E𝟏 + =E+ (1.24)
3𝜀0 3𝜀0
This is known as Lorentz relation. The difference between the Maxwell’s field E
and the Lorentz field Eloc is as follows: the field E is macroscopic in nature and is
an average field. On the other hand, Eloc is a microscopic field and is periodic in
nature. This is quite large at molecular sites, indicating that the molecules are more
effectively polarized than they are under the influence of Maxwell’s field E.
If there are n molecules or atoms per unit volume in a dielectric, then the electric
dipole moment per unit volume is n𝛼Eloc , represented by P, known as polarization.
Therefore,
P = n𝛼Eloc (1.25)
where 𝛼 is a constant and is known as polarizability of the dielectric material.

Rearranging relations (1.24) and (1.25), we can write
( )
P
P = n𝛼Eloc = n𝛼 E + (1.26)
3𝜀0
The polarization is induced by electric field, and therefore, it is a function of elec-
tric field. The relationship is written in the following way:
P = 𝜀0 𝜒E (1.27)
where 𝜒 is called the dielectric susceptibility. In general, 𝜒 is a tensor and depends
on the electric field. The dielectric susceptibility 𝜒 is defined in terms of relative
permittivity 𝜀r of the material.
𝜀r = (1 + 𝜒) (1.28)
Now, rearranging relations (1.26–1.28), we can write an expression in terms of the
relative permittivity:
𝜀r − 1 n𝛼
= (1.29)
𝜀r + 2 3𝜀0
The above equation is known as Clausius–Mossotti relation. This relates the rela-
tive permittivity to polarizability of the dielectric material. The total polarizability 𝛼
can be written as the sum of four terms, representing the most important contribu-
tions to the polarization, that is, 𝛼 = 𝛼 e + 𝛼 i + 𝛼 o + 𝛼 s , where 𝛼 e , 𝛼 i , 𝛼 o , and 𝛼 s are the
electronic, ionic, orientational, and space charge polarizabilities, respectively.
Since 𝜀r = k = n2 , we can rewrite relation (1.29) as follows:
n2 − 1 n𝛼
= (1.30)
n2 + 2 3𝜀0
This is the Lorentz–Lorenz equation. It connects the index of refraction (n) with
the polarizability.
1.1.9 Dielectrics Losses

When an electric field acts on any matter, the latter dissipates a certain quantity
of electric energy that transforms into heat energy. This phenomenon is known
as the loss of power, meaning an average electric power dissipated in matter
during a certain interval of time. As a rule, the loss of power in a specimen of a
material is directly proportional to the square of the electric voltage applied to the
specimen.
If a metal conductor is first connected to direct voltage and then to alternating
voltage, the acting magnitude of which is equal to direct voltage, the loss of power
P in watts will be the same in both cases in conformity with the Joule–Lenz law and
equal to
V2
P= (1.31)
R
where V is the voltage in volts and R is the resistance of the conductor in ohms.
1.1 Dielectrics 13
As distinct from conductors, most of the dielectrics display a characteristic feature:

under a given voltage, the dissipation of power in the dielectrics depends on the
voltage frequency; the expense of power at an alternating voltage is markedly higher
than that at a direct voltage; rapidly grows with an increase in frequency, voltage, and
capacitance; and depends on the material of the dielectric.
The power losses in a dielectric under the action of the voltage applied to it are
commonly known as dielectric losses. This is the general term determining the loss
of power in an electrical insulation at both a direct and an alternating voltage. Dielec-
tric losses at a direct voltage can be found from relation (1.31) where R stands for the
resistance of the insulation, while the losses under the alternating voltage are deter-
mined by more intricate regularities. Actually, the dielectric losses mean the losses
of power under an alternating voltage.
1.1.9.1 Dielectric Loss Angle

The phase diagram of currents and voltages in a capacitor energized by an alter-
nating voltage is shown in Figure 1.6. If the power was not dissipated at all in the
dielectric of the capacitor (ideal dielectric), the phase of current I through the capac-
itor would be ahead of the phase of voltage V by 90∘ , and the current would be purely
reactive. In actual fact, the phase angle 𝜙 is slightly less than 90∘ . The total current
I through the capacitor can be resolved into two components: active I a and reactive
I r currents.
Thus, the phase angle describes a capacitor from the viewpoint of losses in a dielec-
tric. Since the phase angle 𝜙 is very close to 90∘ in a capacitor with a high-quality
dielectric, the angle 𝛿 (i.e. 𝛿 = 90∘ − 𝜙) is a more descriptive parameter, which is
called the dielectric loss angle. The tangent of the angle is equal to the ratio of the
active currents to the reactive currents:
tan 𝛿 = Ia ∕Ir (1.32)
or the ratio of active power P (power loss) to the reactive power Pr :
tan 𝛿 = P∕Pr (1.33)
The dielectric loss angle is an important parameter for the dielectric materials.
This parameter is usually described by the loss tangent tan 𝛿. Sometimes, the quality
factor of an insulation portion is determined, that is, the value is reciprocal of the loss
tangent:
1
Q= = tan 𝜙 (1.34)
tan 𝛿
Figure 1.6 Phase diagram of current V

and voltage in a capacitor with a
dielectric material.
I, Z
φ
Ia
δ
Ir O
The values of tan 𝛿 for the best electrical insulating materials employed in
high-frequency and high-voltage engineering practice are of the order of thousands
and even tenths of thousands of fractions.
1.1.9.2 Total and Specific Dielectric Losses

The value of dielectric losses P in an insulating material having a capacitance C is
described from relation (1.31) as follows:
P = VIa = VIr tan 𝛿
Inserting the intensity of the capacitive current through an insulation portion with
a capacitance of C, we get
Ir = V𝜔C (1.35)
Since 𝜔 = 2𝜋f , the angular frequency, the dielectric losses P can be expressed as
follows:
P = V 2 𝜔C tan 𝛿 = 2𝜋fCV 2 tan 𝛿 (1.36)
Inserting the value of effective length Λ = A/d in Eq. (1.36) and replacing 𝜀0 by its
numerical value
10−9
𝜀0 ≈ F∕m
36𝜋
the expression of dielectric losses can be formulated as:
P = 5.56 × 10−11 V 2 f Λ𝜀r tan 𝛿 (1.37)
Formulas (1.36) and (1.37) have a broad field of application. They hold for any size
and shape of an insulated portion.
The knowledge of total amount of dielectric losses in the insulated portion is not
enough, and it is necessary to study the distribution of dielectric losses at the separate
points of insulation. Let us consider a cube with edge dx inside the insulated portion
in which we are interested so that the lines of forces pierce the cube entering and
leaving it through two opposite faces in the direction perpendicular to these faces
(Figure 1.7).
Figure 1.7 Electric field pierces a

Charge Electric field cube with edge dx in an insulated
Charge
+Q portion.
–Q
dx
dx Plate area A
dx
Plate separation d
1.1 Dielectrics 15
The capacitance of the capacitor formed by the cube according to relation (1.15)
with d = dx and A = (dx)2 is
( )
A
C = 𝜀r 𝜀0 = 𝜀r 𝜀0 dx
d
and the voltage across the cube is V = E dx. Inserting these values into Eq. (1.36),
we get
dP = E2 𝜔𝜀0 𝜀r tan 𝛿(dx)3 (1.38)
whence the specific dielectric losses are the losses per unit volume of the dielectric,
dP dP
p= =
dV (dx)3
where V = (dx)3 is the volume of the cube. So, the specific dielectric loss p is
expressed as:
p = E2 𝜔𝜀0 𝜀r tan 𝛿 (1.39)
Now substituting 𝜔 = 2𝜋f and replacing 𝜀0 by its numerical value in Eq. (1.39),
10−9
𝜀0 ≈ F∕m
36𝜋
We have the expression for specific dielectric losses:
p = 5.56 × 10−11 E2 f 𝜀r tan 𝛿 (1.40)
Formulas (1.39) and (1.40) are suitable for any pattern of field that possesses unlike
properties at different places. The product 𝜀r tan 𝛿 is called the dielectric loss index
(factor).
1.1.10 Dielectrics Breakdown

At high electric fields, a material that is normally an electrical insulator may begin
to conduct electricity – that is, it ceases to act as a dielectric. This phenomenon is
known as dielectric breakdown. The mechanism behind dielectric breakdown can
best be understood using the band theory.
Essentially, there are two “bands” in every material that the electrons within the
material may occupy: the valence band and the higher energy conduction band
(Figure 1.8). Electrons in the valence band can be conducted as being bound in
place, whereas electrons in the conduction band may act as mobile charge carriers.
In dielectrics, the two bands are separated by a certain energy gap Eg , corresponding
to energies that are forbidden to the electrons. Since the valence band is lower in
energy, electrons will preferentially occupy this band. Therefore, in a dielectric
under normal conditions, the conduction band will be empty. If an electron in the
valence band is supplied with energy greater than or equal to Eg , for example, from
a high energy photon, it may be promoted to the conduction band.
An electric field of sufficient strength can supply enough energy to promote many
electrons to the conduction band at once. Since electrons in the conduction band
act as charge carriers, the material now conducts charge rather than storing it. For
Conduction band Conduction band

(empty) (occupied)
e– e– e– e– e– e– e–
Energy
Energy gap Eg e– e–e– e– e– e– e–

e– e– e– e– e– e–
e– e– e– e– e– e– e–
Valence band Valence band
(occupied) (occupied)
(a) Before break down (b) High electric field promotes

dielectric break down
Figure 1.8 (a) Band structure before dielectric breakdown. (b) band structure after
dielectric breakdown.
each material, there is a characteristic field strength needed to cause dielectric break-
down. This is referred to as the breakdown field or dielectric strength. Typically,
values of the dielectric strength lie in the range 106 –109 Vm−1 . The exact value of
the dielectric strength depends on many factors – most obviously, the size of the
energy gap, the geometry and microstructure of the sample, and the conditions it is
subjected to.
The dielectric breakdown is associated with the formation in a dielectric crystal of
a conducting path in which the current density is substantially higher than the aver-
age for the specimen. The Joule heat generated because of the high-density current in
the path leads to the destruction of the material, including melting, the appearance
of an air channel as a result of volatilization, and the extensive formation of crys-
tal defects or cracking. Thus, dielectric breakdown is an irreversible phenomenon.
Dielectric breakdown is often associated with the failure of solid or liquid insulating
materials used inside high-voltage transformers or capacitors in the electricity dis-
tribution grid, usually resulting in a short circuit or a blown fuse. It can also occur
across the insulators that suspend overhead power lines and within underground
power cables or lines arcing to nearby branches of trees.
References
1 Thoms, E., Sippel, P., Reuter, D. et al. (2017). Dielectric study on mixtures of ionic
liquids. Sci. Rep. 7 (1): 7463.
2 Belkin, A., Bezryadin, A., Hendren, L., and Hubler, A. (2017). Recovery of alu-
mina nanocapacitors after high and low voltage breakdown. Sci. Rep. 7 (1): 932.
3 Hossain, S. (2020). Malignant cell characterization via mathematical analysis of
bio impedance and optical properties. Electromagn. Biol. Med. 40 (1): 65–83.
4 Hossain, S. (2020). Biodielectric phenomenon for actively differentiating malignant
and normal cells: an overview. Electromagn. Biol. Med. 39 (2): 89–96.
5 Daintith, J. (1994). Biographical Encyclopedia of Scientists, 943. CRC Press.
References 17
6 James, F.A.J.L. (ed.) (1996). The Correspondence of Michael Faraday, Volume 3,

1841–1848. Letter 1798, William Whewell to Faraday, p. 442. Archived from the
original on 2016-12-23. Retrieved 2012-05-18. London, United Kingdom: The
Institution of Electrical Engineers.
7 Kao, K.C. (2004). Dielectric Phenomena in Solids, 92–93. London: Elsevier
Academic Press.
8 Debye, P. (1913). Ver. Deut. Phys. Gesell. 15: 777; reprinted 1954 in collected papers
of Peter J.W. Debye. Inter Science, New York.
19
Pyroelectricity
2.1 Introduction
Pyroelectricity (from the two Greek words pyr meaning fire and electricity) is a
property of certain crystals that are naturally electrically polarized and as a result
contain large electric fields. Pyroelectricity can be described as the ability of certain
materials to generate a temporary voltage when they are heated or cooled. The
change in temperature modifies the positions of the atoms slightly within the crystal
structure, such that the polarization of the material changes. This polarization
change gives rise to a voltage across the crystal. If the temperature stays constant
at its new value, the pyroelectric voltage gradually disappears due to the leakage
of current. The leakage can be due to either electrons moving through the crystal,
ions moving through the air, or current leaking through a voltmeter attached across
the crystal.
If there is a small temperature change ΔT, uniform over the crystal, the change in
the polarization vector ΔPi is described by the following relation:
ΔPi = pi ΔT
where the vector pi (i = 1, 2, 3) are the three pyroelectric coefficients and, by Neu-
man’s principle, ought to remain invariant under all the symmetry operations of the
crystal [1]. Hence, pyroelectricity can be exhibited only by crystals belonging to the
10 polar classes, namely, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, m, mm 2, 3 m, 4 mm, and 6 mm.
The equation for the pyroelectric effect may be written as follows:
dPi = pi dT
Since
Di = k0 Ei + Pi (2.1)
We have,
dPi = dDi − k0 dEi
If we now specify that the temperature change is to be carried out with the electric
field in the crystal held constant, we have
dDi = pi dT (E − constant) (2.2)
Pyroelectric Materials: Physics and Applications, First Edition. Ashim Kumar Bain and Prem Chand.
© 2023 WILEY-VCH GmbH. Published 2023 by WILEY-VCH GmbH.
20 2 Pyroelectricity
It may be pointed out here that in some crystal, polarization may appear under
the influence of hydrostatic pressure, and this is a special case of piezoelectric
effect. Since hydrostatic pressure is a scalar-like temperature, this polarization
linearly proportional to the hydrostatic pressure can also be treated on par with
pyroelectricity. Thus, the piezoelectric effect under hydrostatic pressure can occur
only in the abovementioned 10 polar classes. In general, the piezoelectric effect
has the mathematical character of a third-rank tensor and is restricted only to 20
non-centrosymmetric classes, excluding the class 432. Thus, the symmetry permits
all the pyroelectric crystals to be piezoelectric, while the converse is not true. There-
fore, it is possible to imagine two possible contributions to pyroelectricity in the
following way. Experimentally to observe pyroelectricity, one can heat the crystal
and observe the change in polarization. The experiment could be performed in two
ways. Either the shape and size of the crystal can be kept fixed during the heating
or the crystal may be released so that thermal expansion can occur quite freely.
Obviously, the magnitude of the effect observed in the two cases will be different. In
the first case, the crystal is clamped, and the observed effect may be regarded as the
primary pyroelectricity. In the second case, in addition to the primary effect, there
is pyroelectric effect due to the variation of piezoelectrically induced polarization
with temperature. This is known as the secondary pyroelectricity. The secondary
pyroelectricity is found to contribute substantially to the total effect.
Hence, for a free crystal, the total pyroelectric effect could be written as follows:
( ) ( ) ( ) ( )
dD dD dD d𝜖
= + (E − constant) (2.3)
dT 𝜎 dT 𝜖 d𝜖 T dT 𝜎
where 𝝈, 𝝐, and E denote the stress, strain, and electric field, respectively (Figure 2.1).
Eq. (2.3) could be written as follows:
( ) ( ) ( )
dD d𝜎 d𝜖
p 𝜎 = p𝜖 + = p𝜖 + dTijk Cjklm
T
𝛼jk𝜎 (E − constant) (2.4)
d𝜎 T d𝜖 T dT 𝜎
where p𝝈 is the total pyroelectric coefficient; p𝝐 is the primary pyroelectric coef-
ficient; and dijk , Cjklm , and 𝜶 jk denote, respectively, the piezoelectric moduli,
elastic compliance coefficients, and coefficients of thermal expansion. Clearly, the
secondary pyroelectric coefficient is given by the product of dijk , Cjklm , and 𝜶 jk .
Though secondary pyroelectricity is due to piezoelectricity, only those piezoelectric
crystals that belong to the 10 polar classes are permitted by crystal symmetry to
exhibit secondary pyroelectricity.
E Figure 2.1 Primary and secondary pyroelectricity.

The full line illustrates the primary effect (with the
strain 𝜖 constant); the broken lines illustrate
secondary effects that can occur when the crystal is
D free to deform. Here, E – electric field, 𝜎 – stress,
T – temperature, 𝜖 – strain, D – displacement, and
S – entropy.
ε S
σ T
So far, we have tacitly assumed that the temperature of the crystal is the same at all
points. Uneven heating causes temperature gradients, which by thermal expansion
give rise to nonuniform stress and strain. Under such conditions, it is possible for
piezoelectric crystals like α-quartz, which does not belong to the 10 polar classes, to
exhibit secondary pyroelectricity. This secondary pyroelectricity due to nonuniform
heating is called the tertiary pyroelectric effect. The tensorial pyroelectricity refers
to the production of quadrupole or higher electric moments on heating.
2.2 History of Pyroelectricity

This treatment of pyroelectricity in terms of a change in net dipole moment emerged
in modern times. But as a phenomenon, the pyroelectric effect has been known
for 24 centuries – the Greek philosopher Theophrastus probably wrote the earli-
est description of the pyroelectric effect, as exhibited by the mineral tourmaline [2].
He described a stone called lyngourion in Greek or lyncurium in Latin, which had
the property of attracting straws and bits of wood. Those attractions were no doubt
the effects of electrostatic charges produced by temperature changes, most probably
in the mineral tourmaline.
Theophrastus and other writers of the two millennia that followed were far more
interested in the origin of the stone and its possible therapeutic properties than
they were in physical explanations. Theophrastus proposed that lyngourion was
formed from the urine of a wild animal, later identified by Pliny the Elder as a lynx
(Figure 2.2) [3–5]. This was not the cat known today, but a doglike animal.
Two thousand years after Theophrastus, tourmaline’s unusual physical proper-
ties were reintroduced to Europe through the publication in 1707 of a book entitled
Curiöse Speculationes bey Schlaflosen Nächten (Curious Speculations During Sleepless
Nights) [6]. Its author, Johann Georg Schmidt, using the pen named Immer Gern
Speculirt (Always Gladly Speculating), wrote a series of 48 dialogs, one of which
contained a section describing hard and glassy bodies that were not magnetic. He
described the experiences of Dutch gem cutters when they tested the durability of
tourmaline in a fire:
The ingenious Dr. Daumius, chief physician to the Polish and Saxon troops on
the Rhine, told me that, in the year 1703, the Dutch first brought from Ceylon
in the East Indies a precious stone called tourmaline, turmale, or trip, which
had the property of not only attracting the ashes from the warm or burning
coals, as the magnet does iron, but also repelling them again.
In 1717, the physician and chemist Louis Lemery wrote the first scientific descrip-
tion of pyroelectricity in a journal and exhibited a tourmaline crystal before the
Academy of Sciences of Paris [7]. In 1747, the naturalist Carl von Linné (Linnaeus)
was the first to relate the pyroelectric property of tourmaline to electricity; he called
the mineral lapis electricus (electric stone) [8]. The first serious scientific study of the
electrical properties of tourmaline was presented to the Royal Academy of Sciences
Figure 2.2 The mythological origin of lyncurium (tourmaline, most likely) according to
Greek philosopher Theophrastus, with lynx at lower right. Source: Lang [3–5].
in Berlin by Dr. Franz Ulrich Theodor Aepinus in 1756 [9]. His major observations
were that tourmaline became electrified by being warmed (rather than by friction
which was the common method in use at the time) and that the crystal acquired
opposite electric charges on two opposing faces.
The usefulness of this new way of generating electric charges and its relevance to
the rapidly developing understanding of electricity and magnetism induced many
others to experiment on tourmaline, including Johann Karl Wilcke [10], Benjamin
Wilson [11], Joseph Priestley [12], John Canton [13], and Torben Bergman [14].
Figure 2.3 Experimental apparatus of Bergman [14].
An elaborate drawing of the apparatus of Bergman is shown in Figure 2.3 [14].

Canton was apparently the first person to observe that cooling of tourmaline caused
its electrical polarity to be the reverse of that found on heating. He also devised a
very novel experiment demonstrating that the quantities of positive and negative
charges were equal.
A more quantitative understanding of pyroelectricity emerged during the nine-
teenth century as more sophisticated research techniques were developed. In 1824,
David Brewster, famous for his work in optics, was the first author to use the term
“pyroelectricity” [15]. One of the materials he studied was a “tartrate of soda and
potash” – Rochelle salt – the same material in which Joseph Valasek discovered
ferroelectricity almost exactly a century later. Quantitative electrometers for charge
measurement were developed by A. C. Becquerel [16], James D. Forbes [17], and
Wilhelm Gottlieb Hankel [18]. A drawing of the electroscope developed by Forbes is
shown in Figure 2.4.
Shortly after Antoine Becquerel and others developed the electrometer,
John-Mothée Gaugain made the first precise measurements of pyroelectric
charges in 1859 [19]. He reached some important conclusions: the total quantity of
Figure 2.4 Electroscope developed

by James D. Forbes. Source: Based
on Forbes [17].
electricity produced by a crystal of tourmaline depends uniquely upon the limits

within which its temperature is varied; within those limits, the amount of electricity
produced during heating is the same as that produced during cooling, but with the
signs of the charges reversed; and the amount of charge produced is proportional
to the cross-sectional area of the crystal and is independent of its length. William
Thomson and Lord Kelvin published the first major theoretical treatment of pyro-
electricity in 1878; their paper included a prediction of the electrocaloric effect [20],
the converse effect of pyroelectricity. A much-used technique for determining the
charge distribution on a crystal was developed by Kundt in 1883 [21]. A mixture
of red lead oxide and sulfur was dusted onto the crystal. Lead oxide adhered to the
negative parts of the crystal and sulfur to the positive parts. Figure 2.5 illustrates
some typical results [22].
Jacques and Pierre Curie proposed that the electrical effects due to nonuni-
form heating of quartz crystals might have been caused by pressure, which led
to their discovery of piezoelectricity in 1880 [23]. During the latter part of the
nineteenth century and the early decades of the twentieth century, seven Nobel
laureates – Wilhelm Röntgen, Pierre Curie, Gabriel Lippman, Heike Kammerlingh
Onnes, Erwin Schrödinger, Archer J.P. Martin, and Max Born – published papers
Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3
Figure 4a
Figure 4b
Figure 5
Figure 6a Figure 6b
Figure 11
Figure 7 Figure 8
Figure 12
Figure 9 Figure 10
Figure 2.5 Kundt powder patterns [22]: materials shown are D-tartaric acid (Figure 1),
L-tartaric acid (Figure 2), calamine (Figure 3), struvite (Figure 4 a, b), tourmaline (Figure 5),
left and right-handed quartz (Figure 6 a and b, respectively), quartz plates (Figures 7–10),
boracite (Figure 11), topaz plate (Figure 12). Source:Groth [22].
on pyroelectricity [24]. These scientists are, of course, much better known for their
research in other fields.
Few important papers on pyroelectricity were published in the first two decades
of the twentieth century. Joseph Valasek studied the properties of Rochelle salt and
discovered ferroelectricity in 1920. Subsequently, interest in pyroelectricity virtually
vanished. In 1938, Yeou Ta published a paper that initiated the great growth that
continues in the field today [25]. In his paper for the first time, it proposed that tour-
maline crystals could be used as infrared (IR) sensors in spectroscopy. Some research
was conducted on pyroelectric IR detectors during and immediately after World War
II in the United Kingdom, the United States, and Germany, but the results appeared
only in classified documents. In 1962, J. Cooper made the first detailed analysis of
the behavior of fast IR detectors and conducted experiments using BaTiO3 [26–28].
In that year, S.B. Lang proposed the use of pyroelectric devices for measuring tem-
perature changes as small as 0.2 μK [29]. An explosive growth in theoretical studies,
basic measurements, and applications had begun: more than 8500 papers on pyro-
electricity have been published since 1960 [30].
In 1965, Hadni proposed the use of pyroelectric elements for thermal imaging [31].
Although early interest was in military and security applications, thermal television
devices have had a significant impact in nonsecurity areas. As an example, a thermal
imaging sensor has been built into helmets worn by firefighters that enables them
to see through smoke and dust to locate the sources of fires and possible victims. An
illustration of the helmet is shown in Figure 2.6 [24]. Some of the highest resolution
pyroelectric imaging devices have been developed at the UK Defence Evaluation and
Research Agency. A 256 × 128 pixel image and a 384 × 288 pixel image are shown in
Figure 2.7 [24].
Pyroelectric devices have been used for applications in space beginning with the
vertical temperature profile radiometer launched into an earth orbit on the ITOS-D
Helmet mounted Counterweight

display (HMD)
Rechargeable
Sensor battery
Frangible
cable link
Processor/power (FCL)
module Video port
Figure 2.6 Pyroelectric IR imager in firefighter’s helmet. Source: Lang [24].

Figure 2.7 High-resolution pyroelectric images: 256 × 128 pixels (above), 384 × 288 pixels
(below).Source: Lang [24].
spacecraft in 1972 [32]. One of the most recent space applications was in the Galileo
mission, which was launched on 18 October 1989. Included in its instrumentation
was a photopolarimeter-radiometer used to determine thermal radiation on Jupiter
and its moons [33]. The temperature distribution around the Great Red Spot of
Jupiter is shown in Figure 2.8.
A probe carrying the net flux radiometer (NFR) was released into the atmosphere
of Jupiter on 13 July 1995 [34]. This device measured the vertical distribution of net
flux of solar energy and planetary emission in order to help determine the chemi-
cal composition and structure of the Jovian atmosphere. The optical head and the
detector/hybrid assembly of the NFR are shown in Figure 2.9.
In the eighteenth century, pyroelectricity emerged from two millennia of fable
and myth into early studies of electricity, mineralogy, thermodynamics, and crys-
tal physics. It gave birth to piezoelectricity and ferroelectricity and has given rise to
a large body of scientific knowledge and a host of applications. It continues to be a
vibrant and active field of research today.
121 K 135 K
–242 F –216 F
Figure 2.8 Galileo photopolarimeter (upper left) and pyroelectric images of Great Red
Spot of Jupiter. Source: Hunten [33], NASA.
Recently, there have been many excellent individuals and institutions that have
been involved in the research, development, and application of these very interesting
materials. A chronological listing of many of the more notable specific events in the
history of pyroelectric materials is given in Table 2.1.
Progress has been made in creating artificial pyroelectric materials, usually in the
form of a thin film, using gallium nitride (GaN), cesium nitrate (CsNO3 ), polyvinyl
fluorides, derivatives of phenylpyridine, and cobalt phthalocyanine. Lithium tanta-
late (LiTaO3 ) is a crystal exhibiting both piezoelectric and pyroelectric properties,
which has been used to design prototype portable X-ray generator [83] and pyro-
electric neutron generators [45–49].
A pyroelectric can be repeatedly heated and cooled (analogously to a heat
engine) to generate usable electrical power. Possible advantages of pyroelectric
generators for generating electricity (as compared to the conventional heat engine
plus electrical generator) include potentially lower operating temperatures, less
bulky equipment, and fewer moving parts. Recently, many research groups have
designed pyroelectric nanogenerators [60–87] using pyroelectric polymers and
ceramic materials, but such generators do not appear to be anywhere close to
commercialization.
Very small changes in temperature in pyroelectric materials can produce a
pyroelectric IR detector. Over the past few years, many pyroelectric IR sensors
are designed with pyroelectric materials such as DLaTGS-based fourier trans-
form infrared (FTIR) spectrometer [37], lithium tantalate (LT)-based pyroelectric
detector [35], barium strontium titanate (BST)-based pyroelectric detector [39],
PVDF-based pyroelectric sensor [36], AlN-based pyroelectric sensor [55], PZT
thin-film IR sensor [42], dual-element PZT pyroelectric IR detector [50], hybrid
focal plane array detector [40, 41], high-resolution linear array detector based on
LiTaO3 [44], periodic domain TFLTTM (thin film lithium tantalate) detector [51],
Rear bearing
Mounting flange Rotor gear Flex circuits
Upward aperture
Detector
(for viewing
package
downward flux)
Diamond window
Shroud
Front housing
Forward
bearing
Toroidal mirror
Folding mirror Condensing cone Stepper motor
Flex circuit Beryllium stiffener

Alignment pins Hybrid preamp
A
Detector
board
Detector
plane
C Filter
E
Upper
filter
frame
Lower
filter
A frame
EMI shield
Filter frames Section A-A
Detector
temperature diode
Figure 2.9 Detector assembly of Galileo probe net flux radiometer: optical head (above)
and detector/hybrid assembly (below). Source: Sromovsky et al. [34], figure 2, 5
(pp. 237–240)/Springer Nature.
THz detector based on ultra-thin LiTaO3 crystal [53], integrated 16 × 16 PVDF

pyroelectric sensor [43], large-area TFP (thin film pyroelectric) polymer detector
[54], Tetraaminodiphenyl (TADPh) polymer detector [58], integrated resonant
absorber pyroelectric detector [56], GaN-based resonant IR detector [52], plasmonic
IR detector [59], and graphene pyroelectric bolometer [57].
Table 2.1 Notable events in the history of pyroelectricity.
Time line Events
314BC Greek philosopher Theophrastus first observed the pyroelectric effect in

the stone called lyngourion in Greek or lyncurium in Latin (most likely the
mineral tourmaline) [2].
1707 Johann Georg Schmidt rediscovered the physical properties of tourmaline
through the publication of a book entitled Curiöse Speculationes bey
Schlaflosen Nächten (Curious Speculations During Sleepless Nights) [6].
1717 Louis Lemery wrote the first scientific description of pyroelectricity in a
journal and exhibited a tourmaline crystal before the Academy of
Sciences of Paris [7].
1747 Carl von Linné (Linnaeus) first related the pyroelectric property of
tourmaline to electricity; he called the mineral lapis electricus – electric
stone [8].
1756 Franz Ulrich Theodor Aepinus presented first serious scientific study of
the electrical properties of tourmaline to the Royal Academy of Sciences
in Berlin [9].
1759 John Canton was the first person to observe that cooling of tourmaline
caused its electrical polarity to be the reverse of that found on heating. He
also devised a very novel experiment demonstrating that the quantities of
positive and negative charge were equal [13].
1824 David Brewster was the first author to use the term “pyroelectricity.” It
appeared in his paper entitled “Observation on the pyro-electricity of
minerals” [15].
1859 Jean-Mothée Gaugain made the first precise measurements of
pyroelectric charges [19].
1878 William Thomson and Lord Kelvin published the first major theoretical
treatment of pyroelectricity; their paper included a prediction of the
electrocaloric effect [20], the converse effect of pyroelectricity.
1901 Wilhelm Röntgen was awarded Nobel prize for his work on pyroelectric
and piezoelectric investigations [24].
1903 Pierre Curie was awarded Nobel prize for his works on quartz and
tourmaline [24].
1908 Gabriel Lippman was awarded Nobel prize for his work “Principles of
conservation of electricity (theory of electrocaloric effect)” [24].
1913 H. Kammerlingh Onnes was awarded Nobel prize for his work
“Piezoelectric and pyroelectric properties of quartz at low temperatures
down to liquid hydrogen” [24].
1933 Erwin Schrödinger was awarded Nobel prize for his work “Kinetics of
dielectrics: melting point, pyro- and piezoelectricity” [24].
1938 Yeou Ta published a paper [25] and proposed that tourmaline crystals
could be used as infrared (IR) sensors in spectroscopy.
1952 Archer J. P. Martin was awarded Nobel prize for his work “New method
for detecting pyroelectricity” [24].
1954 Max Born was awarded Nobel prize for his work “Quantum theory of
pyroelectricity” [24].
(continued)
Table 2.1 (Continued)
Time line Events
1962 J. Cooper made the first detailed analysis of the behavior of fast IR
detectors and conducted experiments using BaTiO3 [26–28].
1965 A. Hadni proposed the use of pyroelectric elements for thermal imaging
[31].
1972 Pyroelectric device was used for applications in space beginning with the
vertical temperature profile radiometer launched into an earth orbit on
the ITOS-D spacecraft [32].
1989 Photopolarimeter-radiometer was used in the Galileo mission to
determine thermal radiation on Jupiter and its moons [33].
1990 Lithium tantalate (LT)-based pyroelectric detector [35].
1990 PVDF-based pyroelectric sensor [36].
1992 DLaTGS-based Fourier Transform Infrared (FTIR) spectrometer [37].
1992 Pyroelectric X-ray generator [38].
1995 The Galileo net flux radiometer (NFR) was released into the atmosphere
of Jupiter to measure the vertical distribution of net flux of solar energy
and planetary emission [34].
1995 Barium strontium titanate (BST)-based pyroelectric detector [39].
1996 Hybrid focal plane array detector [40, 41].
1997 PZT thin-film IR sensor [42].
2000 Integrated 16 × 16 PVDF pyroelectric sensor [43].
2001 High-resolution linear array detector based on LiTaO3 [44].
2003 COOL-X pyroelectric x-rays generator (www.amptek.com/coolx.html).
2005 Pyroelectric neutron generator [45].
2007–2010 Pyroelectric neutron generators [46–49].
2009 Dual-element PZT pyroelectric IR detector [50].
2012 Periodic domain TFLT detector [51].
2014 GaN-based resonant IR detector [52].
2015 High-performance THz detector based on ultra-thin LiTaO3 crystal [53].
2015 Large-area TFP polymer detector [54].
2016 AlN-based pyroelectric sensor [55].
2016 Integrated resonant absorber pyroelectric detector [56].
2017 Graphene pyroelectric bolometer [57].
2019 TADPh polymer detector [58].
2019 Plasmonic IR detector [59].
2013–2018 PVDF polymer-based nanogenerators [60–78].
2012–2017 ZnO ceramic-based nanogenerators [79, 80].
2012–2017 PZT ceramic-based nanogenerators [81–85].
2012 KNbO3 ceramic-based nanogenerator [86].
2018 BTO ceramic-based nanogenerator [87].
2.3 Theory of Pyroelectricity

To understand pyroelectricity in crystals, we have to consider the various mech-
anisms of the spontaneous polarization (such as ionic, electronic, orientational,
or surface charge) and study their variation with temperature. The pyroelectric
behavior is fully described by the temperature variation of pyroelectric coefficient.
Actually, it is convenient to consider the temperature variation of primary and
secondary pyroelectric coefficients separately. The temperature variation of sec-
ondary pyroelectric coefficient is governed by those of piezoelectric moduli, elastic
compliance constants, and thermal expansion coefficients. Both piezoelectric
moduli and elastic compliance constants are not strong functions of temperature
in those crystals that do not undergo any phase transition. Hence, the temperature
variation of secondary pyroelectric coefficient is akin to those of thermal expansion
coefficients. Conceptually, the origin of primary pyroelectric effect and its variation
with temperature are more difficult to visualize and have invoked considerable
discussion in the literature [88].
The lattice dynamical theory of primary pyroelectricity for the ease of ionic
crystals was first formulated by Max Born in the year 1945 [89]. In this paper,
Born had indicated that primary pyroelectric coefficient would be proportional
to T, though in his later treatise on lattice dynamics, he predicted the T 3 as a
law for the pyroelectric coefficient [90]. Szigeti [91, 92] has brought out clearly
many salient features of the theory, especially the role of mechanical and electrical
anharmonicity in primary pyroelectricity, which in fact was overlooked by Born.
In the case of ionic crystals, there are two important mechanisms of polarization.
One being responsible for absorption in the IR, that is, the lattice or ionic polariza-
tion, and the other in the ultraviolet, that is, the electronic polarization. In the very
simplest and crude model known as the rigid ion model, the electron cloud around
the ion is assumed to be rigid and, consequently, there is no contribution from
electronic polarization. For such a model, the total dipole moment of the crystal is
given by
∑
M= 𝛼a Qa
a
where Qa are the active normal coordinates, that is, those that produce uniform
polarization in the direction of M, and 𝛼 a are suitable normalizing constants.
However, in reality, the electrons are deformed during the lattice vibrations as they
experience short-range forces and also the dipolar field due to ions. The electron
deformation is not only linearly proportional to lattice displacements but also
involves higher terms. Hence, when one takes into consideration the electronic
polarization also, the dipole moment of the crystal is given by
∑ ∑
M= 𝛼a Qa + 𝛽jj′ Qj Qj′ + … (2.5)
a jj′
An important point to note is that 𝛼 a includes both the effects due to lat-
tice displacements and the first-order effects due to electron deformation. The
above expression for the dipole moment clearly implies the presence of electrical
anharmonicity in the crystal.
2.4 Simple Model of Pyroelectric Effect 33
For the case of harmonic crystal, the potential energy is proportional to the square
of the normal coordinates. In reality, crystals are not harmonic, and the mechanical
anharmonicity has to be taken into account. For such a crystal, the potential energy
involves the cubic and higher powers of the normal coordinates.
1∑ 2 2 ∑
W= 𝜔Q + b ′ ′′ Q Q ′ Q ′′ + (2.6)
2 j j j jj′ j′′ jj j j j j
The primary pyroelectric coefficients p𝜖 could be expressed in terms of coefficients

that appear in the expansion of dipole moment and potential energy (i.e. Eqs. 2.5
and 2.6).
( )
∑ ∑ 𝛼a bajj Cj
𝜖
p = 𝛽jj − (2.7)
j a 𝜔2a 𝜔2j
Here, Cj is the contribution of the jth mode to the specific heat and is given
by ℏ𝜔j (𝜕ñj /𝜕T) and ñj is the average occupation number of the phonons with
energy ℏ𝜔j .
From the above expression, it could be shown that under Debye’s approximation
(which actually involves invoking some properties of 𝛽 jj and bajj in the long
wavelength limit), the primary pyroelectric coefficient obeys T 3 law. But as has
been rightly pointed out by Szigeti, in the case of complex polyatomic crystals, optic
modes can have very low frequencies, and hence, the T 3 behavior is observed only
at very low temperatures. At this stage, it is also necessary to emphasize the role
of both electrical and mechanical anharmonicity in primary pyroelectricity. Since
the primary pyroelectric effect does not involve thermal expansion, for quite some
time, it was regarded that only the electrical anharmonicity was responsible for
primary pyroelectricity. It may be mentioned that thermal expansion is the result of
mechanical anharmonicity. However, from the expression for primary pyroelectric
coefficient, it is evident that the part played by mechanical anharmonicity cannot be
neglected.
2.4 Simple Model of Pyroelectric Effect
Microscopically, the pyroelectric effect occurs because of the asymmetric envi-

ronment experienced by electrically charged atoms within the crystal structure of
the material. This can be viewed schematically as presented in Figure 2.10, which
shows a two-dimensional lattice of cations and anions. The cations are displaced
relative to the unit cells “center of gravity” to give rise to an electrical dipole moment
(or spontaneous polarization PS ) along the line (x1 − x2 ).
The potential energy of any cation along this line will be an asymmetric form as
illustrated in Figure 2.11. Any excitation caused by an increase in lattice tempera-
ture will make it change its quantized energy level (E1 to En ) within the well and
lead to a change in its mean equilibrium position in the lattice along the line A–B
in Figure 2.11. This gives a change in the overall electrical dipole moment, which
appears as the macroscopic pyroelectric effect [93].
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accustomed to the well-heated houses of America. I came down with
pneumonia. My French friend, Pierre Vogein, looked after me.
Josephine Bennett brought me fruit and ordered proper food. Louise
Bryant sent a doctor. Clive Weed had told her that I was in Paris.
Louise Bryant was aware that I wanted to write above all things. I
first saw her when she returned from Russia after the death of John
Reed. I think it was at Romany Marie's in Greenwich Village and she
was encircled by a group of nice young men, collegiate-like. At that
time she was a pretty woman with unforgettably beautiful eyebrows.
She had sent The Liberator a pathetic poem about her sorrow, and
we had published it. I told her that the poem had moved me more
than anything that was written about John Reed's death. For the
dead was dead, but I felt that the living who really mourn are the
sorriest thing about death.
Louise Bryant and I came together again, I think at Max Eastman's.
We talked about John Reed. I asked if she knew that he had invited
me to go to Moscow in 1920, when I was in London. She said she
didn't know that, but was aware that Reed had become excited
about the social problems of the Negro group shortly before he fell ill.
At that time she was doing a brilliant set of articles about Russia for
a Hearst newspaper. We talked about writing. I was interested in her
opinion of so-called "bourgeois" and so-called "proletarian" literature
and art. Externally her tastes were bourgeois enough. She liked
luxurious surroundings and elegant and expensive clothes and
looked splendid in them. But her fine tastes had not softened her will
or weakened her rebel spirit.
Louise Bryant thought, as I did, that there was no bourgeois writing
or proletarian writing as such; there was only good writing and bad
writing. I told her of my great desire to do some Negro stories,
straight and unpolished, but that Max Eastman had discouraged me
and said I should write my stories in verse. But my thinking in poetry
was so lyric-emotional that I could not feel like writing stories in that
vein. She said Max Eastman was too romantic about poetry and that
I should write prose. She said she also could never get into her
poetry certain things that she got into prose. John Reed had written
some early stories about ordinary people with no radical propaganda
in them, she said, and suggested that I should do the same about
my Negro stories—just write plain tales.
And so now again in Paris, when she was sending me off to
southern France for my health, Louise Bryant warned me:
"Remember our conversation in New York, and don't try to force your
stories with propaganda. If you write a good story, that will be the
biggest propaganda." She gave me a check big enough to keep me
living simply and working steadily for three months.
I went to Marseilles, and from there visited some of the little towns of
the littoral. Finally I chose La Ciotat, a place about midway between
Marseilles and Toulon, having some eight thousand folk. Boatmaking
and fishing were the two main industries. The bay was fine, and
beautiful in the morning sunshine. But on the quay, where the
houses and hotels were, the morning sunshine didn't fall. There was
no kind of heat, not even fireplaces. My hotel was cold but I
contrived to work, wrapping myself from chest to feet in my Russian
blanket and leaving only my hands free.
After a month of it I went down to Toulon to hear Carmen by the
Opéra Comique Company from Paris. In a bistro after the opera I
met a girl who spoke English. She was a little strange, different from
the average that one meets in sailor bars. She was friendly to me. I
found out that she had once been a little friend of artists and writers
in Montmartre and Montparnasse. She was the type of girl that
seemed more suitable for friendship with younger officers than with
common sailors, but she preferred the sailors. She worked too, in a
store. She promised to find me a room with a fireplace in Toulon,
which she did, and sent me a note about it the following week. But I
had already paid another month's rent in advance in La Ciotat.
When that month was ended, I took up residence in Toulon. The girl
—her name was Marcelle—had a sailor friend named Lucien, and all
three of us became very close friends. Lucien was more than an
average sailor. There are many such in the French navy, lads from
middle-class and lower middle-class families who choose the navy
instead of the army to do their compulsory service. The service is
longer in the navy than in the army. Also it is harder, without the
privileges offered by the army, in which the educated sons of the
better classes can do their compulsory service as cadets.
Lucien had been a cadet, studying to enter the navy as a career, but
he had failed his examinations and then decided to do his military
service in the navy. He read lots of books, but he wasn't literary. He
gave me my first French lessons. He said I should read Anatole
France for good French. He said he read everything of Anatole
France's because he wrote the purest and clearest French of any
contemporary writer. But he didn't get any kick out of the novels as
novels. For stories about French life he preferred Zola and
Maupassant. I wondered if there were many French readers who felt
about Anatole France as Lucien did. He assured me that there were
many who liked Anatole France merely because he wrote classical
French.
Lucien was on the battleship "Provence." He invited me to go aboard
and introduced me to many of his friends. As Lucien had formerly
been a cadet, he had a few extra privileges. Very often he slept in
town. And he, Marcelle and I were always together. He loved to walk,
and together we explored the environs of Toulon. We hiked to La
Seyne, Tamaris, Bandol and Ollioules. I love the Var country more
than any part of France, excepting Brittany. Lucien was a Breton and
he loved those wonderful bare rugged rocks towering to the skies
that make the Var so dramatically picturesque. I told Lucien that I
loved those rearing rocks because they somewhat suggested the
skyscrapers of New York. But Lucien did not like the comparison; he
could not imagine anything American resembling anything French.
When his pals got their week-end vacation from the "Provence" we
all went bathing out at Cap Negre in the afternoon, and in the
evening we got together for a good time in the bistros and
mancebías. The mancebías of Toulon are like recreation halls for the
sailors. Many of the sailors who, like Lucien, had their girls in town,
went to the mancebías to dance and meet their friends for a good
time. Sometimes they took their girls with them. There are dancing
halls in Toulon, but these are frequented mostly by the officers. The
sailors find it embarrassing to mix with the officers, so they prefer the
mancebías, where they are freer. The managers of the mancebías
are a pretty good lot. They are friendly and cater to the whims of the
sailors, as if they were aware that they were entertaining a mixed
group of the best of the country's youth.
Toulon is dominated by the naval aristocracy, and its administration
seemed to me the best of any of the French provincial towns I
visited. To a casual observer, the civil administration seems
subordinate to the maritime administration. The sailors are protected
much more than they are aware. In Toulon there is nothing of that
rotten civil complaisance in the exploitation of the sailors which is a
revolting feature of life in Marseilles.
Soon after I went to reside in Toulon I received a letter from the
secretary of the Garland Fund. It informed me that the officers of the
Fund had heard that I was unwell and in need and that they desired
to help me for a time, while I was writing. Thus assured of fifty dollars
a month, I knuckled down to writing. It was grand and romantic to
have a grant to write, and I got going on a realistic lot of stuff. I was
sure about what I wanted to write, but I wasn't so sure about the
form. My head was full of material in short pieces, but I wanted to
write a long piece—a novel.
I returned to Paris toward the end of summer with a heavy portfolio. I
met a couple of publishers' scouts who didn't discover anything in my
lot. Clive Weed introduced me to Harold Stearns. Stearns's strange
tired eyes didn't want to look at me. Remembering something, he
excused himself, got up and went to the bar, and there forgot all
about me. I wondered why Stearns acted so strangely, as if over
there in Paris I had reminded him too much of civilization in the
United States! Another Yankee said that I should not worry about
Harold Stearns for I had nothing to offer him, and he had nothing to
offer me but tips on horses and booze. While I remained in Paris I
saw Harold Stearns again many times and always at the bar. He was
something of an institution in Montparnasse, and often I saw him
pointed out to American students who were discovering civilization in
Europe as the man who had edited Civilization in the United States.
Also in Paris I found Eugen Boissevain, who had previously helped
me much with encouraging praise of my poetry and with gifts of
money. He had been recently married to Edna St. Vincent Millay. I
saw them both together at their hotel and she gave me a book of her
poems. There was a happy feeling in his face that I never had seen
there before he was married, and I felt happy for it because I was
fond of him. Miss Millay I saw for the first time. In Greenwich Village I
had often heard praise of her, but we had never met, and when I
arrived in Paris she had recently left. In the literary circles of
Montparnasse I heard her name on the lips of foreigners and
Americans, and all in praise of her—a reverent worshipful praise. It
was extraordinary: he-men, mere men, and others—all used
identical phrases in praising Miss Millay's elusive personality. The
only other white woman I knew who was so unreservedly esteemed
by all kinds of men was Isadora Duncan. I was puzzled and skeptical
of all that chorus of praise. But when I did set eyes on Miss Millay I
understood it. There was something in her personality which was
Elizabethan—as I imagine the Elizabethans to have been from
Shakespeare and history. And I saw her as a Shakespearean
woman deftly adapted to the modern machine age. When I searched
for an Anglo-Saxon word to fix her in my mind I could think of "elfin"
only.
Sinclair Lewis was in Paris also, and he was very kind. He read
some of my stuff. He had been generous to many radically-inclined
writers since his first success with Main Street, and he hadn't seen
any results. But he gave me a sum of money, took me to dinner in a
small quiet place, and talked to me a whole long evening. In a
shrewd American way (chastising me and making me like it), Sinclair
Lewis gave me a few cardinal and practical points about the writing
of a book or a novel. Those points were indicative and sharp like
newspaper headlines. I did not forget them when I got down to
writing Home to Harlem. I remembered them so well that some
critics saw the influence of Sinclair Lewis in my novel. Scott
Fitzgerald, in a note, said that the scenes seemed in the Zola-Lewis
line.
I left Paris again for Toulon to see what better I could do. About the
time I got back Lucien was just finishing his service and getting
ready to leave for Brittany. Marcelle was very sad, and I also. For I
had been looking forward to our spending much of our leisure time
together as formerly.
On the evening of Lucien's departure a gang of sailors from the
"Provence" and some from other boats and a few girls all crowded
into my room. Out of their small wages they had eked enough to buy
many bottles of ordinary white and red wine. I bought some cognac.
My landlady and her husband joined us and we had a great good
time.
My friends knew that I was writing, but they knew nothing of my
ideas. I never told them that I had been in Soviet Russia. The French
friend whom I had met in Moscow had advised me that so long as I
was staying in France I should never do or say anything to let the
authorities think that I was making political propaganda. If I followed
that line, he said, I would never be bothered. I kept that advice, along
with Louise Bryant's, in my head and followed the line.
But toward the end of the evening, when we all began kissing one
another on both cheeks, Frenchwise, bidding Lucien a last farewell,
a sailor started singing the "Internationale." We all joined our voices
with his and heartily sang, I singing in English. One sailor jumped up
on my writing table and said: "After the world revolution there will be
no more white and black and yellow; we shall all be one fraternity of
men." My sense of the distinctive in the difference of color was
outraged, and I said, "We can still remain a fraternity of men and
guard our complexions." One of the girls said: "That's all well! We
wouldn't like you to change your color either."
But the next day I had the honor of a visit from two police officers in
plain clothes. They were very courteous. They first satisfied
themselves that my French was not worth much and one of them
spoke to me in English, which was worth just a little more than my
French. I told them all they desired to know about me, except the
fact that I had visited Soviet Russia. I explained that the sailors had
come to my place to give Lucien a farewell party. "And they sang the
'Internationale'!" commented my inquisitor. I am not sure, but I think
there is a government ruling which forbids French sailors and
soldiers from singing the "Internationale." "They sang the
Marseillaise too," I said, "and I prefer the words and music of the
Marseillaise to those of the 'Internationale'." The English-speaking
inspector smiled and asked me whether I was a Communist. I said
that I was a poet and a great admirer of Victor Hugo. He said, "Well,
I wouldn't wonder if a Negro-American had advanced ideas." He
excluded the Negro-French of course. But I was courteously left
alone and for the ensuing months I lived happily and as I pleased in
Toulon. In the restaurants and cafés that I frequented I was treated
even better than before.
Lucien wrote, asking if I could visit Brittany in the summer, because
his parents wanted to know me. I replied in ungrammatical French,
telling him that I would if I could. I finished a novel and mailed it to
New York. I had a group of short stories, which I forwarded to Louise
Bryant. I received an enthusiastic letter from Louise Bryant, who said
that Robert McAlmon wanted to use one of the stories.
Lucien and I kept up a regular correspondence. He wrote that he had
fallen ill, but that it was not serious. In the early summer I left Toulon
for Marseilles. There I met Marcelle. I told her that I was expecting to
go to Brest to visit Lucien and his people. She thought that was fine,
and I asked her why she didn't come along too. That was impossible,
she said, because a girl of her sort could not think of visiting the
family of her lover. Girls like her, she said, were outside friends for
outside purposes, and had no desire to intrude themselves upon
their friends' families.
In the company of a white American artist I spent a couple of weeks
in low-down Marseilles; then I decided to go to Bordeaux to visit a
British West Indian Negro friend and his French West Indian wife
before going on to Brittany. I got my ticket and boarded a night train.
And while I was waiting for my train to pull out, another pulled in, and
there in the next car right up against mine was Max Eastman and his
Russian wife!
I got out and asked the station master to make my ticket good for the
next day. Max Eastman had just published his book, Since Lenin
Died. I had left him in Russia before Lenin's death, and we had
plenty to talk about. So we spent the larger split of the night talking,
and the next day drove round the Corniche and ate bouillabaisse on
the quay. In the evening I entrained for Bordeaux.
I wrote from Bordeaux informing Lucien that I would arrive soon in
Brest, and was surprised to find the answering letter addressed in a
strange handwriting. It was from Lucien's father, stating that his son
had died the week before. Lucien had contracted tuberculosis in the
navy, and unaware of his serious illness, had not taken any
treatment. In Toulon I had noticed that he was rather frail, and,
compared to his comrades, unusually quiet, but I never heard him
cough, and his physique showed no strain when we went hiking in
the country.
In his letter, Lucien's father invited me still to come to St. Pierre. He
said his son had talked about my visit up to the moment of his death,
and thought that I would like Brittany more than Provence. For the
first time in my life I was shocked with the sensation of what "a living
dead" might mean. I had seen persons sicken and die after a long
illness. I had seen sudden death. But Lucien's passing was weird,
like a ghost story. All the time he was regularly writing those healthy
letters about the picturesqueness of the wild Breton coast, of the
fields full of larks singing in the summertime, of the quaint costumes
which the old people still wore naturally, he was actually wasting
rapidly away. They say consumptive persons are like that: always
optimistic and hopeful of their health. But I had never had any close
contact with one.
I wondered if Marcelle had known of the real state of Lucien's health.
When I told him that I had come to the Midi mainly for the effect of
the sun on my health, he said: "Why should the young think about
health? Just live, and that is health." I lingered on in Bordeaux,
hesitating about going to Brittany. But I received another letter, from
Lucien's mother, urging me to come, "because Lucien wanted you to
be his guest, and now that he is dead we want to receive you for
him." I decided to go. I had met many French in cafés, restaurants
and other places. And I had been invited to a couple of parlor parties
in Montparnasse, but I wasn't sure whether my hosts were really
French or what the French call métèque. I had never been a guest in
a real French family. The French are exclusive in their ideas of family
life and seldom invite strangers to their homes.
Lucien's family, which was small, belonged to the prosperous
peasant class or the small bourgeoise. It was not a café-or
restaurant-owning family. The old father used to be an artisan, of
what trade I don't remember. He was a big man, robust, friendly, and
loved to play boule. The mother was small and compact and
resembled a picture of a South European immigrant arriving in New
York. There were two daughters and an older son, all married. The
son had a clerical position in the maritime service. I noticed that they
read Le Quotidien, which was a Left liberal paper at that time.
The family possessed a small two-storey stone house in St. Pierre. It
was furnished in antique and modern stuff. The father and mother
still used the chest-like Breton beds which are now so highly valued
by connoisseurs. The dining table also was a large, heavy massive
thing, occupying the one large room that served for dining and
cooking. But Lucien had modernized his room, so that it was like a
room anywhere, even in the Congo, I guess.
I stayed in a hotel in Brest and went often to eat with Lucien's family.
After the shock of meeting over Lucien's death, it was a nice visit. I
liked the Breton folk more than any other of the French. I spent the
summer wandering all over Finistère. I lay in the gray-green fields
and watched the brown larks suddenly soar and sing. I knew then
why Lucien loved the Breton fields so dearly, and I understood more
of what Shakespeare felt when he wrote:
Hark, hark the lark at Heaven's gate sings....
Lovely are the fields and charming are the towns of Finistère: Brest,
Morlaix, Camarat, Plougastel, Morgat, Quimper, Concarneau, Le
Pouldu over to Lorient and back to Douarnenez le Rouge above all!
How I loved Douarnenez with its high wall falling sheerly into the
green waters and the big shipping boats with their tall masts hung
with nets like blue veils against the misted gray-blue sky, and the
fishermen in red dungarees and red-hearted.
I loved the quiet green and subdued grays and browns of Brittany,
and although it rained a lot I did not miss the grand sun of Provence.
Perhaps because I was sad and felt the need of solitude.
XXIII
Frank Harris in France
LATE in the autumn I went south again to Nice. I needed a job and
found one as valet to an American.
Paul Robeson and I met on the Promenade des Anglais. He read
one of my stories and said he liked it. I said I would like to do a play
for him to act in. Paul asked me if I knew Gertrude Stein. I said I
didn't, that I hadn't gone to her place. Paul said he had visited
Gertrude Stein and that she was all right. I shouldn't neglect such an
opportunity, as she knew all the literary people who counted, he told
me. I told Paul that although I couldn't abide cliques, I wasn't averse
to contact, but from my estimation of Gertrude Stein I felt that she
had nothing to offer.
I lived in a spacious room with a French-Italian family. It gave on the
old port of Nice, and was cheap. Paul Robeson was staying in
Villefranche in the same hotel in which Glenway Westcott lived. I
wrote to Paul asking if he could come to Nice on a certain evening,
when Max Eastman and his wife would be visiting me. The reply
came from Mrs. Robeson. She wrote that she and Paul were coming
together, because they just couldn't breathe without each other. Paul
Robeson came late with his formidable wife and the more formidable
Frank Harris. Robeson and his wife had had either lunch or dinner
with Frank Harris at Cimiez and had mentioned that they were
coming to see me afterward. Frank Harris hadn't seen me in years,
didn't know I was in Nice, and insisted on coming along with the
Robesons.
Max Eastman and his wife were already there when the Robesons
and Frank Harris arrived. It was a most piquant scene, for I had
never seen Max Eastman and Frank Harris together, and I knew how
they detested each other. If Frank Harris's dislike was boisterously
aggressive, Max Eastman's dislike of him was none the less real
because it was veiled and soft.
Frank Harris greeted me with a loud: "You rascal, catting your way
through Europe and not letting me know you were in Nice! I knew
you would come back to Europe after that first trip. Now give an
account of yourself." But before I could get in a word of any account
about myself Frank Harris was teasing Max Eastman about his book,
Since Lenin Died. He said he hoped that Eastman would realize now
that politicians are politicians whether they are red or white, that
there were certain types of men who were successful politicians and
always would be forever and forever. He, Frank Harris, was one of
the first to hail the Russian Revolution and he still believed in it. But
he had never regarded Lenin and Trotsky or any Bolshevik as a god,
but as men with the faults of men. Max Eastman could not reply
because Frank Harris did not give him a chance.
I had a case of dry Graves under my bed. (I had accompanied a
casual acquaintance one day to a big shop in Nice, and in an excess
of feeling for my poetry or personality he offered me the case of
Graves and I accepted it right away before his sentiment had time to
change.) So I brought out two bottles. Frank Harris said he was not
drinking. But when he saw the Graves he examined the bottle and
exclaimed: "Oh, it's an excellent brand. I cannot resist trying it." And
he grabbed the bottle from me and opened it himself. I got the
glasses ready and Frank Harris poured the wine. Soon he became
mellow, and started to tell stories of life and himself. He told us a
story of his traveling from London to Rome by the Paris-Rome
express train. There was an Italian couple sitting beside him, he
said, and the man knew English and started a conversation. The
passenger was cultivated, and they passed the time discussing
politics and headline news. But the woman got bored. She could not
talk English. And suddenly, tigerishly, she turned on Frank Harris,
accusing him of monopolizing her husband's interest. Harris was
sitting next to Paul Robeson and he gave a dramatic interpretation of
the incident, now imitating the man, now the woman, beside
portraying his own rôle. And while he was interpreting the woman's
part he acted the thing out on Paul Robeson, making him the man. It
was all very interesting, but when he had finished, Mrs. Robeson
said aside to me: "He was so realistic that I felt afraid for my
husband." Frank Harris was also such a great actor that in his talk he
actually became the character he was portraying. And that is why
some of the readers of his marvelous biography of Oscar Wilde
imagine that there was something more than a platonic friendship
between the two men.
The Robesons invited the Eastmans and myself to dinner in

Villefranche. Glenway Westcott also was their dinner guest. Mrs.
Robeson wore a pretty red frock and Paul sang a couple of
spirituals. Now that Frank Harris wasn't there, the women had their
chance to luxuriate in talking. It was the first time Mrs. Eastman had
heard the American Negro voice. Mrs. Eastman (nee Eliena
Krylenko) was like a reincarnation of Chekhov's, The Darling. She
whispered to me that she was fascinated, and like a happy, eager
child she engaged Mrs. Robeson in conversation. Presently Mrs.
Robeson exclaimed to Mrs. Eastman, "But Darling, where did you
get that accent? Oh, I do adore your way of using our English
language. It is just lovely!"
Frank Harris and I met very often in Nice. He lived in Cimiez, but
came into Nice almost every day for his mail at the office of the
American Express Company. Often we sat in the Taverne Alsacienne
to talk. He asked me how my prose was getting along. I told him I
thought I had done some good short stories, but failed of my real
objective—a novel. I told him my difficulty was devising a plot.
"Don't worry about a plot," he said. "Just get a central idea or a
person interesting enough and write around that. Make your writing
strong and loose and try to get everything in it."
Once he saw me with a very striking girl at the American Express
and he asked me if I would like to bring her to dinner with him. I said,
"Very willingly," and we arranged a rendezvous for a few days later.
The dinner was in one of the best restaurants. Harris had published
his Life and Loves and was selling it privately. He told us he had
received orders from the United States, England, Germany, the
Scandinavian countries and France. It was his practice to send the
book and collect afterward, he said, and all the buyers had paid
promptly excepting the French.
I said, "Our guest is French." (She spoke perfect English.) Frank
Harris was astonished: "Vraiment! vraiment!" he said, "Vous êtes
française?" The girl said, "Yes, but that is nothing." But Frank Harris
regretted the faux pas, for English enemies, he informed me, were
attacking him and working to get him expelled from France for writing
a dirty book. Some French journalists of the Left were defending him.
He began telling us of his troubles with the English and that he was
banned from visiting England again, ostensibly because of his Life
and Loves, but he knew that he was being persecuted actually
because he had taken a stand against England during the war.
We had a leisurely dinner: aperitifs and excellent white wine with the
fish and red wine with the meat. And topping all, a bottle of
champagne. Frank Harris told many Life and Loves stories, as
salacious as possible. The last long one was about his first strange
affair in Greece. The French girl said, cryptically, "It had to be
Greece."
Outside, while we were walking through the Albert the First Park,
Frank Harris declared that although he had passed seventy he was
still young and active in every way. To demonstrate this he started to
skip and fell down in the first movements. I picked him up. The girl
lived about forty minutes down the littoral, and as the last train was
due in a few minutes, I said that I had to take her to the station.
Frank Harris said: "Why don't you take her home in a taxicab?" I said
that we couldn't afford it, but that if he chose to, there was no
objection. Immediately he took up the challenge and called a taxicab.
I put the girl in and he said to me: "You, too, get in." I said no, that
one escort was enough and we could trust him. And besides, I had
to sleep the liquor out of my head to go to work the next morning. So
Frank Harris got in beside the girl and they drove off.
I saw him again before I saw her. "Did you have a nice ride?" I
asked. An embarrassed look came into his face and he broke out,
"You black devil, why didn't you tell me we were riding to the
destination of Lesbos?" "Because I thought any destination was a
destination for an eclectic person like you," I said, and added that we
had warned him that he could be trusted.
"I didn't even have any money left to pay the taxicab," he said, "and
had to give the chauffeur a promissory note."
One day Frank Harris told me he had been thinking about doing a
book of contemporary portraits of Negroes only, and he could not
think of any Negroes but Josephine Baker, Paul Robeson and
myself. At that time Paul Robeson was aspiring, but had not
achieved his greater fame. And without being unduly modest, but
with my mind on the bull's-eye of achievement, I said I thought I
would have to do another book first.
Truth to tell, I have always been a little dubious about anthologies of
Negro poets and all that kind of stuff. Because there is a tendency to
mix up so much bad with the good, that the good is hard to pick out.
Of that kind of thing, some critics will say: "Good enough for a
Negro," and there is a feeling among some Negro writers and artists
that they should be contented with that sort of criticism. It gives us
prestige in Negro society. We have been praised by critics and the
critics are all white. If I resent that kind of patronizing criticism, and
the fact that Negro artists are satisfied with it, it is because I am
inspired with a great hope for the Negro group. And I am certain that
it cannot find artistic self-reliance in second-hand achievement.
Though because of lack of common facilities and broad cultural
contacts a Negro's work may lack the technical perfection of a white
person's, intrinsically it must be compared with the white man's
achievement and judged by the same standards. I think that that is
the only standard of criticism that Negro artists can aim at.
Frank Harris and I went to the Taverne Alsacienne to talk over his
project. He said that if he wrote a book of contemporary portraits of
Negroes, he would expect it to sell. I said that I hoped it would. I
wrote down some names: Marcus Garvey, Florence Mills, Madam
Walker of Black Beauty Culture fame, W.C. Handy, composer of the
St. Louis Blues. W.E.B. DuBois was the only Negro intellectual who
appeared outstanding for that sort of thing. There were quite a few,
but none of them glamorous enough for Frank Harris's style. I
mentioned Professor Carver, the Luther Burbank type of scientist
who had been my beloved teacher at Tuskegee, but Frank Harris
objected. He said that he wanted a Negro scientist of the caliber of
Thomas Huxley. He said that Booker Washington was inflated as a
philosopher, and he hadn't found any system of philosophy in his
books. He thought it would be interesting if American Negroes could
throw up a full-sized philosopher special to their needs and times—a
kind of Aframerican Herbert Spencer. Herbert Spencer, he said,
didn't mean anything to him, but meant a lot to the smug English
bourgeoisie, and so he had to be reckoned with as an intellectual.
Not long after my conversation with Frank Harris I left Nice for
Marseilles. And suddenly bloomed the exotic flower of the Negro
renaissance. I never heard what became of Frank Harris's idea.
Perhaps Paul Robeson could tell. Frank Harris said he had talked or
was going to talk to Paul Robeson, as he intended him to be the big
personality of the book.
XXIV
Cinema Studio
I HAD visited Rex Ingram's cinema studio in Nice to dance with a
group for one of his pictures. Max Eastman introduced my poems to
Rex Ingram. Rex Ingram liked my poems. He had written some
poetry himself and a few of some that he showed me were good
poems. Rex Ingram has a sympathetic mind and an insatiable
curiosity about all kinds of people and their culture. He is especially
interested in North Africa, has friends among the natives, and has
even learned to read Arabic.
Rex Ingram gave me a job. It was a nice, congenial and easy job. I
read a lot of fiction and made a summary of any interesting plots. Not
only did Mr. Ingram give me a job, but he had the temerity to invite
me to dinner at his private table, before the resentful eyes of his
American employees. And there were some hard-boiled eggs among
the technical staff who were as mean as Satan. A French friend said
he heard them muttering threats and that the general manager of the
studio had said that perhaps Mr. Ingram was intent upon
precipitating a riot.
I went about my business and gave no mind to anybody. For none of
the Americans had said anything to me personally. But I could feel
the hot breath of their hellish hate. It was vastly interesting to study a
group of average white Americans who had carried abroad and were
sowing the seeds of their poisonous hate. The young Frenchman
enjoyed repeating to me the phrases he overheard. He did not have
a profound understanding of the vileness of some of those phrases
in English. "Ils sont incompréhensible, ces Américains," said the
Frenchman. "Ils sont les vrais barbares."
The general manager of the cinema studio did not enjoy complicated
situations. I had come up against him before I met Mr. Ingram, when
I was dancing with the group. The leading dancer had told me that
the manager had said I could not continue in the dance, because the
motion picture was being made for American consumption.
Said the manager to me one day: "You know, I knew Julius
Rosenwald, and he has recently left a pile of money for Negro
education and culture. Now don't you think that it is better to have a
fortune to give to improve another race under capitalism than to have
no fortune under Bolshevism?" The manager had heard about my
visit to Russia. I said I thought it was all right to give money for
Negro culture, because Negro workers had helped to make Jewish
as well as other American capital. The manager was a Jew.
The movie establishment was like a realistic dream of my romantic
idea of a great medieval domain. There were gangs of workers
engaged in manual work, building up, tearing down and clearing
away. Motor cars dashed in and out with important persons and
motor buses carried the crowds. Gentlemen and ladies with their
pages went riding by on caparisoned horses. The eager extras
swarmed like bees together, many costumed and made up like
attendants at a medieval banquet. The leading ladies, on the scene
or off, were attired and treated like princesses, and the director was
the great lord in the eyes of all. I used to think that Negroes lacked
organized-labor consciousness more than did any other group. But it
was much worse on that movie lot. I saw the worst sort of
sycophancy in the world among the extras crowd, each one hoping
that some affected way of acting or speaking might recommend him
for a privileged place.
Rex Ingram's inviting me to eat at his table created a little problem. I
was literally besieged by employees, extras and aspirants. Some
desired to get in personal touch with the director through me: "Oh,
the director had you to dinner, and over at his house! What a
beautiful gesture, and how proud you must be!" The news reached
the café that I frequented in Nice, and the proprietor, waiters and
customers all treated me with particular attention. They all thought
that I had achieved something marvelous, something special. And as
none of them knew anything about the difference between poetry
and piggery, it was hard to convince them that Rex Ingram had
honored me only because I was a poet; that all I had was an ordinary
job and that I was not specially placed to further their ambitions.
Rex Ingram held some very advanced ideas on world politics. He
was interested in the life and thought and achievements of minority
groups, and whenever he ran into me he had something interesting
to say. And each time, as soon as his back was turned, the
sycophants besieged me to learn what he had talked about. As that
was embarrassing, I did my work and avoided the director as much
as possible.
Among the employees there was an Italian who was specially
troublesome. He had lived somewhere in America and acquired a
smattering of English. He sensed the undercurrent of feeling against
me among the American element and desired to show in what
direction his sympathy was slanted. The Italian was in charge of the
transportation of employees from St. Augustine to Nice. He often had
a special remark for me: "Having a good time over here, eh?—les
jolies jeunes filles. It would be different in America." Two Polish girls,
a Frenchman and myself were rather friendly and always went down
together. The Italian always tried to separate us, finding some
reason to hold one or two of us behind by putting somebody before
and between. The Frenchman hated the Italian and called him the
petit caïd.
One evening the Italian not only held me back, but kept me waiting
and waiting until I lost patience. He let one of the buses go, although
there were vacant places. I said, "What's the idea? What game are
you playing?" He said, "You know in America, you'd have to wait for
the last and ride by yourself." I said, "Yes, you—you have sucked off
so much America, that you need some fascist castor oil to purge
you." He said, "I think you'll want to box next; all Negroes are
boxers." I said, "Look here, I won't defile my hands with your dirty
dago skin, but I'll cut your gut out." I went suddenly mad and pulled
my knife and he ran around the bus, crying that the Negro was after
him with a knife.
In a moment sanity flashed back into me as quickly as it had fled and
I put the knife in my pocket. It was a fine clean blade. Lucien had
given it to me in Toulon. A friendly fellow took me up on his
motorcycle and we dashed away from the damned place. It was the
first time I had ever drawn a blade in a fight, and I was ashamed.
The Frenchman said: "What are you ashamed of, when you didn't do
it? You should have stuck him in his belly and made one Italian less.
Italy and France are certain to go to war, and I think they should start
right now." That was ten years ago.
The business manager made much trouble for me over the incident.
He talked a lot about an intelligent Negro not being able to control
himself. And if I had to use a weapon, he wanted to know, why
should it be a knife? For it was a general idea that the Negro race
was addicted to the use of the knife. Even though I was on trial, with
the judge prejudiced against me, I could not resist saying, "When
bad traits are wished upon a whole group of people, it isn't so
surprising if the best of us sometimes unconsciously exhibit some of
the worst traits."
I thought that when the final decision was handed down, I would
surely lose my job. But Rex Ingram's face revealed that he
possessed an intuitive understanding of poets. He is Irish. He knew
that I had suffered enough from the incident, and didn't punish me
further. So I stayed at work all that spring until summer, when the
studio closed. Then I decided to go to Marseilles. I had kept out of
Rex Ingram's sight most of the rest of the time, because, as I said, I
was thoroughly ashamed. But when I was going I sought him out to
say goodbye and he encouraged me to go on with my writing, told
his bookkeeper to give me a free ticket to Marseilles, and gave me a
gift of six hundred francs.
XXV
Marseilles Motley
IT was a relief to get to Marseilles, to live in among a great gang of
black and brown humanity. Negroids from the United States, the
West Indies, North Africa and West Africa, all herded together in a
warm group. Negroid features and complexions, not exotic, creating
curiosity and hostility, but unique and natural to a group. The odors
of dark bodies sweating through a day's hard work, like the odor of
stabled horses, were not unpleasant even in a crowded café. It was
good to feel the strength and distinction of a group and the
assurance of belonging to it.
The Africans came mainly from Dahomey and Senegal and Algeria.
Many were dockers. Some were regular hard-working sailors, who
had a few days in port between debarking and embarking. Others
were waiting for ships—all wedged in between the old port and the
breakwater, among beachcombers, guides, procurers, prostitutes of
both sexes and bistro bandits—all of motley-making Marseilles,
swarming, scrambling and scraping sustenance from the bodies of
ships and crews.
I rented a room in the Vieux Port and worked rapidly revising my
stories. Louise Bryant had written asking me to get all my stories
ready, for she was sailing soon to New York, and would take them
herself to a publisher. Sometimes I did a little manual work. The
Senegalese foreman of the Negro dockers was my friend, and when
he had a lot of work of the lighter kind, such as unloading peanuts or
cocoanuts, he gave me an easy job.
There was always excitement in the Vieux Port: men's fights and
prostitutes' brawls, sailors robbed, civilian and police shooting. One
Senegalese had a big café on the quay and all the Negroes ganged
there with their friends and girls. The Senegalese was a remarkable
type, quiet, level-headed, shrewd. He had served in France during
the World War and had been a sergeant. He went to the United
States as soon as he could after the armistice. He got a job such as
the average Negro works at and at the same time he ran a rooming
house for Africans and Negroid Moslems in New York. He amassed
a tidy sum of money, returned to France after six years, and bought
the bar in the Vieux Port. His family in Goree was old, large and
important. He had a relative in Paris, who was a small functionary in
the municipal system. A sister was a graduate nurse in Dakar, and I
met in Casablanca a first-class mechanic who was his cousin.
In his social outlook the café owner was an African nationalist. He
introduced me to one of his countrymen named Senghor. This
Senghor also was a war veteran and a Negro leader among the
Communists. He was a tall, lean intelligent Senegalese and his ideas
were a mixture of African nationalism and international Communism.
Senghor was interested in my writing and said he wished I would
write the truth about the Negroes in Marseilles. I promised him that I
would some day.
He gave me a little pamphlet he had written about the European
conquest of Africa. The sentiment was quaint and naïve, like the
human figures stamped on old-fashioned plates.... Senghor took me

Pyroelectric Materials Physics and Applications Ashim Kumar Bain All Chapter

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Pyroelectric Materials : Physics and

Applications Ashim Kumar Bain

Physics and Applications

Ashim Kumar Bain

© 2023 WILEY-VCH GmbH, Boschstraße 12,

All rights reserved (including those of

Print ISBN: 978-3-527-35101-5

Typesetting Straive, Chennai, India

3 Pyroelectric Materials and Applications 55

4 Pyroelectric Infrared Detector 119

4.2.5.4 Large Aperture Devices 136

5 Pyroelectric Energy Harvesting 173

5.5.2.3 Lead-Free Ceramic-Based Pyroelectric Nanogenerators 204

6 Pyroelectric Fusion 221

Birmingham, UK Ashim Kumar Bain

Charge Figure 1.1 A polarized dielectric

1.1.1 Polarization of Dielectrics

E Figure 1.2 Polarization

The asymmetric distribution of charge between different atoms in a molecule

1.1.2 Dispersion of Dielectric Polarization

1.1.2.1 Electronic Polarization

Space charge Resonances

10 104 108 1012 1016 1020

Figure 1.3 Frequency dependence of polarization dispersion.

1.1.2.2 Ionic Polarization

1.1.2.3 Orientation Polarization

1.1.2.4 Space Charge Polarization

1.1.3 Dielectric Relaxation

1.1.4 Debye Relaxation

1.1.5 Molecular Theory of Induced Charges in a Dielectric

Figure 1.4 The

1.1.6 Capacitance of a Parallel Plate Capacitor

Sample Problem 1.1

(b) From Eq. (1.12), the free charge:

Sample Problem 1.2

Sample Problem 1.3

1.1.7 Electric Displacement Field, Dielectric Constant, and Electric

where 𝜀 = 𝜀0 𝜀r is the permittivity, and 𝜀r = (1 + 𝜒) is the relative permittivity of the

1.1.8 Local Field in a Dielectric

1.1.8.1 Lorentz Field, E 2

1.1.8.2 Field of Dipoles Inside Cavity, E 3

where 𝛼 is a constant and is known as polarizability of the dielectric material.

1.1.9 Dielectrics Losses

As distinct from conductors, most of the dielectrics display a characteristic feature:

1.1.9.1 Dielectric Loss Angle

Figure 1.6 Phase diagram of current V

1.1.9.2 Total and Speciﬁc Dielectric Losses

Figure 1.7 Electric ﬁeld pierces a

1.1.10 Dielectrics Breakdown

Conduction band Conduction band

Energy gap Eg e– e–e– e– e– e– e–

(a) Before break down (b) High electric field promotes

6 James, F.A.J.L. (ed.) (1996). The Correspondence of Michael Faraday, Volume 3,

E Figure 2.1 Primary and secondary pyroelectricity.

2.2 History of Pyroelectricity

Figure 2.3 Experimental apparatus of Bergman [14].

An elaborate drawing of the apparatus of Bergman is shown in Figure 2.3 [14].

Figure 2.4 Electroscope developed

electricity produced by a crystal of tourmaline depends uniquely upon the limits

Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3

Helmet mounted Counterweight

Figure 2.6 Pyroelectric IR imager in ﬁreﬁghter’s helmet. Source: Lang [24].

Flex circuit Beryllium stiffener