Nothing but a Hypothesis
"To put it simply, my opinion is that the answer cannot be known."
"Cannot be known?"
At my question, Martin nodded, large and emphatic.
"Yes. I can't tell whether it's genuine or a forgery. That's why I wanted to... raise an objection with the professor."
"If we can't determine true from false, how can anyone reach a conclusion?"
"Exactly. A conclusion ought to come only after a scientific analysis, and yet..."
What mattered was what, precisely, counted as scientific analysis. Offer no alternative, and the talk was bound to sink into armchair theorizing. Martin seemed to know it. He opened his mouth with care.
"There is no precedent, so there isn't much in the way of reference material. That doesn't mean there's no method at all. If I were to suggest an alternative, as a man of science... ah, though in the end all I have is a bachelor's degree..."
"It's all right. Go on."
"Even off the top of my head, we could try X-ray, infrared, and ultraviolet imaging. Old works are bound to have cracks, so we could take samples of those and attempt a stratigraphic analysis."
He went on at considerable length after that.
"Sir, this is... the interpreting is a little..."
Too many specialized terms, perhaps.
"I—I'm from an art school. I'm sorry."
Even our ace, a graduate student, had no choice but to flounder.
"It's fine. Even if you'd interpreted it perfectly, I wouldn't have understood."
But one thing had come through clearly in the process: Martin was desperately thirsty for scientific authentication. More than that, he already had a whole array of ways to quench that thirst. Ability and passion, both confirmed. For a proper hire—if one could call it that—it was time to look at the man himself.
"This is only personal curiosity."
Martin tilted his head.
"Why would a scientist with a brilliant future ahead of him suddenly choose art?"
Had the question caught him off guard? Martin scratched his head, then offered an answer.
"Th-there's no grand reason. Pure admiration for da Vinci... that was all of it."
"You liked da Vinci more than art?"
"Ah, I liked art well enough too. But once I came to know da Vinci, I fell completely. As much as science... no, more. And that created a problem."
"A problem?"
"You can't make a living as an art lover. A curator can earn his bread, but my field was so different... I worried over whether there was any way, and what came to me was art authentication."
"You decided authentication was exactly where art and science meet."
"Yes. I was sure it would be. The reality was bleak beyond belief."
To a man out of MIT, the art world must have looked like little more than a mud pit. The literary world was worse still—ahem. Anyway.
"So da Vinci changed your life."
"I-I suppose so. For years I dug in like a madman. When it came to loving da Vinci... I wouldn't have lost to anyone."
He didn't need to say it. Those eyes, pouring out a kind of mania the moment da Vinci entered the conversation—Park Jongin had looked exactly like that when he spoke of semiconductors, and Mr. Baker wore the same eyes when he talked baseball.
"Since it's come up, may I ask you something?"
"If it's about da Vinci, ask all you like."
"You remember the painting I asked you to authenticate?"
He nodded, and nodded again.
"What did you think when you saw it?"
"As a scientist?"
"Anything. It doesn't matter."
Martin was a man who answered without hesitation the moment the subject was da Vinci. But for some reason he held his tongue this time, hesitating over the reply.
"What's wrong?"
"When I have to state an inference that hasn't been verified... I hesitate..."
"Some ethic peculiar to scientists?"
"No. A habit I picked up after coming to Oxford..."
What on earth had Oxford done to the man?
"So what if you're a little off? It's fine. Speak freely. You're only talking to an eleven-year-old, after all."
Being young was convenient at times like this. Sure enough, Martin began, cautious as ever.
"This is only a hypothesis. In plain terms, nothing more than my opinion."
"Good."
"So, well, in my view that painting was... made around 1490. The reason I can fix the date so precisely is that there's a work that forms a pair with it."
A pair?
"Around then, da Vinci was living on the favor of Duke Ludovico, the ruler of Milan. Artists go looking for patrons, don't they?"
"They do."
"Take a patron's money, and you have to earn your keep. Da Vinci threw himself into the work. One of those pieces was a portrait of the duke's mistress."
"Lady with an Ermine."
"H-how did you—"
"It isn't impossible. At that age I used to work university math problems myself."
Not quite the same thing, though. I cleared my throat.
"Well, if you've studied, the conversation will go much more easily. Yes. Da Vinci finished Lady with an Ermine in 1490. But he had a more important commission."
"Making a statue of Duke Ludovico, I imagine?"
"Yes. In fact, the patronage existed so that he would make the statue. There was a problem. Da Vinci was such a perfectionist that he couldn't bring himself to begin. Naturally the duke flew into a rage..."
I knew the story up to there: the clash between an impatient duke and a perfectionist da Vinci. The hypothesis that had never been proved—that would start now.
"Da Vinci must have been terribly anxious. So, while he worked out the statue, he would have bought time with a new proposal. 'Might I paint your portrait instead?'"
Then the painting I'd sent him was a portrait of Duke Ludovico?
"The problem is that he couldn't finish even that. If he'd started the picture to soothe the duke, he ought to have compromised a little and made progress, but that same perfectionism must have tripped him up again."
"So the portrait missed its deadline too?"
"Only my guess."
He said it that way, and yet he looked quite sure of himself.
"You remember what the professor said? That it resembles the existing da Vincis, and yet the manner differs in small ways. Of course it does. How could he paint the Duke of Milan with the same technique he'd used before?"
"A fair argument. But there's something I'm curious about."
He waited.
"You said that the moment you saw the painting, you knew it was the pair to Lady with an Ermine. Why?"
"Ah, the gaze. Lady with an Ermine is looking off somewhere to the right. The man in the portrait you brought me has his eyes to the left. As if they were mirror images, each gazing at the other... Of course, proving that inference would require scientific proof."
"One of the methods you mentioned earlier?"
He nodded, and nodded again.
"The surest way is to secure a crack sample from Lady with an Ermine and run a stratigraphic analysis. If the elemental composition of the layered pigment matches, then talk of manner and touch won't have anywhere left to stand."
"Even so, the Oxford professor won't accept it..."
"It doesn't matter. If he wants to make a fool of himself, why should anyone bother to stop him?"
The confidence peculiar to a man of science. At this rate, perhaps all that remained for that professor was to apologize for having studied the humanities.
After that I talked with Martin for a long while. Thoroughly personal things. For the most part I asked, and he answered with care.
"You won prizes at the science olympiads?"
"First place in chemistry in middle school, and in physics in high school."
"Twice?"
"Yes."
"And you entered the math olympiad as well?"
Another pair of nods.
"First place there too?"
"Of course."
He said it the way a man collects a reservation he has already made. There wasn't the slightest boast in his eyes.
"It's all in the past."
"But I heard you graduated first in your class at university, too."
"That's in the past as well."
Keep that up, and today's conversation will be "the past" in a few days!
I snorted. Even so, I liked the man called Martin. The ability, yes, and his whole attitude toward life. With that settled, what was there to hesitate over?
"Mr. Martin."
"Yes?"
"I'm thinking of forming a new authentication team. One that puts science at the absolute center."
His breath caught.
"I'd like you to lead it."
"B-but I'm only a doctoral student... I don't have the experience to lead a team..."
"A da Vinci specialist, and MIT valedictorian. Where would an authentication team find a better résumé than that?"
"Even so..."
Madness pouring off him when the talk was science, and the moment he was asked to lead, that classic nerd's uncertain face. So very Martin. At times like this, the best course was to push the conversation forward.
"I'll pay you about twice an Oxford professor's salary."
"I—pardon?"
His eyes had no choice but to go round.
"You'd be the head, so you can hire the team however you like."
"I... haven't given you an answer yet..."
"I only meant that if you do take it, that's how we'd proceed."
He scratched at his head.
"The number of people doesn't matter. Just favor those who can work in Korea. Twice what they'd earn in America, and room and board seen to, of course."
"Um, but..."
I waited.
"It feels a little rude to ask this, but..."
"Ask anything."
"Is there... any danger of war? It is a d-divided country, after all."
Instead of answering, I put a question of my own.
"You're from the United States, aren't you?"
"Y-yes."
"Do you usually worry about gun violence?"
"Guns? Well, incidents get reported now and then... but if you're not in a rough area, it isn't something you really have to worry about..."
"Korea is the same."
"Sorry?"
"The danger is real. It just isn't worth any great worry."
"Ah."
That he would ask at all meant his heart was already half won over. A man was bound to want the money, of course. Or so I guessed—but what had truly seized him was the chance to authenticate, to his heart's content, a work presumed to be da Vinci's. As if to prove the thought, Martin spoke up, almost shy.
"I'm a little particular..."
"Putting a team together might take quite a while."
"A perfectionist, like da Vinci."
"Not to that degree..."
"Just don't run away on me."
"Th-that won't happen. I endured Oxford, somehow, didn't I?"
"Then shall we draw up the contract right now?"
"I... forgot my fountain pen."
"A fountain pen is easy enough. We'll just go buy one at Montblanc."