The Cleaner

His job was to make the place shine, and he excelled at it. He knew exactly how to use his polishing cloth to make the marble staircases gleam. The man himself was also spotless, from the top of his shiny bald head to the soles of his gleaming black boots. Clipped to the pocket of his perfectly pressed shirt was a gold name badge: “Henri Boutin, Cleaner, The Louvre Museum.”

This was a man who took great pride in his work. His job was to clean all of the spaces around and between the greatest works of art in the world. In the galleries, he worked amongst the statues, sweeping, mopping, waxing and buffing the floors that would be walked upon by thousands of people later that day. He felt humble to have a job that allowed him to work in the midst of such great masterpieces of art.

Henri was a man of quiet habits. He lived alone in a small apartment without even a resident mouse for a pet. He rose very early, drank a single cup of coffee and took the Metro for three stops to arrive at the Louvre in the stillness of the morning, long before any tourist set their foot inside that day.

He had first started work here 40 years ago, as a much younger man. He remembered how in those days he could push his mop over the vast expanses of floors for the hours of his shift without his back aching or his feet growing tired. He was an older man now. Today was his last day of work at the Louvre. He was retiring. Henri had booked a three month ticket on a cruise ship that was going to take him to see some of the greatest sights in the world. It had seemed like a good plan when he had booked the ticket, but now he wondered how much he would miss his work here. He would miss the routines and rhythms of his life – the peace of the galleries in the early morning, the splash of the mop plunging into the bucket again and again, his habit of greeting his favourite works of art every morning. It was important that these great works of art had a clean place to live. He worried that the person who replaced him would not take as much care with the work. He imagined the dust gathering in the corners of the galleries, and sighed.

As he went about his duties on this last day, he said his final goodbyes to his favourites. He said goodbye to Vermeer’s Lacemaker, who as always was so diligent in her work that she did not even look up to see him go. He said goodbye to the statues of Cupid and Psyche, who as usual were so entranced by each other that they did not even notice him. He said goodbye to the graceful statue of Venus de Milo, who did not see that he was leaving as she stared off into space, lost in her own thoughts.

The last room on his cleaning roster was the Salle de la Joconde: the gallery containing the little Mona Lisa, the most visited artwork in the whole of the Louvre. This room needed to be cleaned every day, because it had so many sets of feet passing through it. He paused to say goodbye to her, and found that she was the only one who acknowledged his farewell. He imagined her saying, “We’ll be alright without you, Henri. It’s time for you to go and see the world.”

Henri rinsed out his mop, packed away his cleaning cloths, and sat down. It was the end of his very last shift, and he took a few moments to gather his thoughts.

“Henri Boutin.” He heard a voice at the door of the cleaning supplies cupboard. He turned to see it was Bernard, the head curator of the museum. “Henri, you have worked here for almost 40 years. Every day that you worked here, you made this a beautiful place for people to come to see the beautiful works of art. But Henri, have you ever been on a guided tour of the Louvre?”

Henri leaned back, thought for a few seconds, and shook his head. “No, I can’t say that I have.” Bernard looked at his watch. “I have half an hour before my next meeting. Let’s go for one last walk around this place, shall we?”

And so the head curator walked and talked with the cleaner about all of the things he loved in the Louvre. The curator loved to talk about the history of each piece. He told Henri how the Venus De Milo was discovered on the island of Melos, however there is debate over whether the statue is the Aphrodite or the sea goddess Amphitrite. He told him about the butterfly in the palm of Psyche’s hand representing her offering her soul to Cupid.

“And finally, let’s look at the most famous exhibit in the whole museum.” The crowds became thicker as Henri and Bernard walked through the corridors and galleries towards the Mona Lisa. The Louvre had opened to visitors half an hour ago. Henri always left before opening time, and so he had never before seen the galleries filled with such a great number of people.

So, as they entered the gallery in which the biggest crowd had gathered, Henri did not look at the Mona Lisa. He had already said his goodbyes to her. Instead, he found himself more interested in looking at the people as they looked at the artworks, seeing the expressions on their faces and overhearing their conversations. He was struck by the thought that each individual person gathered in the crowd was a greater masterpiece than any of the artworks in the entire museum. Each person was unique in design, was beautifully crafted and had a story that they were living. He wondered about their stories: what had brought them to the Louvre today, and where their lives would take them next.

He realised something he had never thought of before. If these people were great masterpieces, he too, had always been a masterpiece, working in the midst of the great works of art. And unlike the masterpieces hanging on the walls, he had not just a history, but also a story that was still to be told. With that thought, he collected his jacket, walked out of the Louvre and went home to start packing his bags to go and see the world.