THE AUTHOR’S EPISTLE TO THE READER 5 
position and consider my handicaps. I knew—to my shame 
and sorrow—little Latin, less Dutch, and not much more 
Finglish of Leeuwenhoek’s time. I had nobody to help me, 
and therefore made the most pitiable mistakes. But I perse- 
vered, and ultimately attained my object (more or less). I also 
learnt afresh the truth contained in the Dutch-Latin proverb 
nil volentibus arduum—or, as we say in English, ‘‘ where 
there’s a will there’s a way.” 
When I had finally discovered where to look for Leeuwen- 
hoek, my serious work began. Having possessed myself—after 
long search and many bitter disappointments—of perfect copies 
of the Dutch and Latin editions of his writings, and with all 
the Royal Society’s manuscripts and Transactions available 
for study, I began my real hunt for the man himself and his 
protozoological and bacteriological knowledge. Whilst reading 
the various versions of his numerous letters, in quest of passages 
relating to protozoa and bacteria, I learnt much about himself 
and his multifarious other activities. In addition, naturally, 
I ransacked every accessible book and paper and manuscript 
for further information. And at last, after encountering 
obstacles at every turn, and surmounting difficulties which often 
seemed at first insuperable, I met Mynheer Antony van 
Leeuwenhoek his very self; and he told me all—or nearly all— 
that he knew about the Protozoa and the Bacteria. To my 
surprise and delight I found not only that he knew no language 
but Dutch, but also that he knew no “ science”; for he was 
merely an ordinary shopkeeper, holding a few minor municipal 
appointments, in the little old town of Delft. In the world of 
science he was no better than an ignorant and bungling 
amateur—self-taught but otherwise uneducated. He did every- 
thing by himself, alone and unaided: so that when he wished 
to make a microscopical discovery, he had first to make himself 
a nucroscope; and when he wished to describe this discovery, vt 
often turned out to be something so novel that he had no words 
wherewith to express it. Consequently, though we both strove 
hard, I often found it very difficult to understand what he kept 
trying to tell me: for he was terribly short of words, and could 
only talk in the commonest and most ungrammatical and old- 
fashioned language—often using expressions which are not in 
any modern Dutch-English dictionary (or if they are, have now 
a different meaning). How such a man ever became famous as 
a “scientist,” and even a Fellow of the Royal Society of 
London, is a curious story which I shall retell you presently. 
