September '26

It was precisely for this reason that Europe began, in the course of the fifteenth century, to codify the rule of tincture. The idea is a simple one: the colours of noble houses were to be clearly legible, for it had been observed that knightly battles are not fought only at noon under a clear sky.

Metal shall not be placed upon metal, nor colour upon colour. A gold lion was permitted upon a blue field, but not upon a silver one. This was not a matter of aesthetics but of bare survival. A blue lion on a red shield appears, at two hundred paces, a mere blur, whereas a gold one on a green field gleams into the distance. In those days this could forestall an attack upon one's own brother. The unintended sort, at least.

Why brightness plays the decisive part, science explained only four centuries later. The human eye does not see in one manner, but in two. The rods distinguish light contrast alone – light and dark. Their task was to catch a suspicious movement in the bushes even at dusk. The cones, by contrast, distinguish colour, but for that they require light and proximity. At a distance the difference between red and green dissolves many times sooner than the difference between light and dark. In fog or at dusk it vanishes altogether. Metal and colour stand opposed precisely in brightness. Without knowing it, the medieval herald was urging us to speak to the rods and not to the cones.

Your September sock carries six of the seven heraldic tinctures at once. Doubtless it now occurs to you, after the manner of William Paley, that so perfect a sock must have a wise creator. I thank you for the compliment, but know that almost all of Paley's opinions have since been refuted.