such magnificence of pattern and splendour of success,
that it can fulfil the deepest urges and longings of man's
spirit, in a way which established religion has not been able
to do. This, which is sometimes called the scientific attitude,
has been well expressed by C. H. Waddington. ¹³ 'Science
itself, and so far as I can see, only science by itself, unadul-
terated with any contrary ideal, is able to provide a way of
life which is firstly self-consistent and harmonious, and
secondly is free for the exercise of that objective reason
upon which our civilization depends.' And elsewhere: 'At
the present time only science has the vigour, and the auth-
ority of achievement, which is necessary to give them that
fresh vivacious joie de vivre which captivates men's hearts
and minds.' If we are to restore faith to men, it will be
through science. Perhaps this is why on 1st January, 1954,
my daily newspaper, after describing a new form of surgical
operation in which a large part of the body was kept at
almost freezing temperature while an external pump was
used to circulate the blood and by-pass the heart, which
could then be operated on, could announce the arrival of
the New Year in these terms: 'We have just entered the
eighth year of the Atomic Age.'

What can have happened to bring about such a situation
as this? For certainly that was not the atmosphere within
which modern science grew up. As people like Herbert
Butterfield and A. N. Whitehead⁸ have shown convincing-
ly, science grew up within a Christian tradition: and for
many years it was in no sense distinct or separate. The
founder of science at Oxford, in the early thirteenth cen-
tury, was Robert Grosseteste, author of a Compendium
Scientiarum and later Bishop of Lincoln. He had no hesita-
tion in saying that it was 'impossible to understand Nature

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