Imaginary interview with Janus
by Charactorium · Janus · Mythology · 5 min read
Two twelve-year-old visitors stop before an old two-faced statue in the heart of the Forum. Suddenly, both stone mouths smile. Janus, the god of doors, has decided to speak to them.
—Why do you have two faces? Isn't that weird?
My child, come closer, don't be afraid. Yes, I have two faces, one in front, one behind. They say I am bifrons, which means “with two fronts” in my language. Imagine you could see the door in front of you and, at the same time, the path already traveled behind you. That is my gift. One face looks at the past, what has been. The other looks at the future, what will be. No other god of Rome has this double gaze. The poet Ovid wrote it: I see at once what has been and what will be. I am the only one who watches from both sides of time.
One face for what has been, the other for what will be.
—Does it make you sad, always seeing the past behind you?
No, my child, not sad. Rather, peaceful. You know, many people are afraid to look back. They dare not look at what they have lived through or what awaits them. I carry both in my stone face. Imagine a traveler on a threshold, a door: he leaves one room and enters another. For an instant, he is in both. That is where I live, in that instant of passage. The Romans carved my double-headed bust in their homes to keep me near them. Seeing behind and ahead is not a burden. It is my way of protecting those who move forward.
I dwell in the instant of passage, neither quite outside nor quite inside.
—Is it true you had a temple that announced war?
It's true, my child. I had a temple in the Forum, with great bronze doors. And those doors had a secret. When Rome went to war, they were left wide open. When peace finally returned, they were closed. Imagine an entire city that looks at my doors to know whether it is at peace or not. Now, do you know how many times they were closed over the centuries? Only three times. Three. The rest of the time, they stayed open, because the Romans were almost always fighting somewhere. My doors were like a barometer: one glance, and you knew if your people slept soundly.
My doors closed meant peace. They were closed three times in centuries.
—Why open the doors during war, and not the opposite?
Good question, it puzzles everyone. You see, I am the god of thresholds and passages. In times of war, soldiers left far away, then returned wounded or victorious. The passage had to remain open for them, so that I could watch over their comings and goings. Imagine a door left ajar for a traveler who hasn't come home yet at night. That was it. My open doors said: “Janus accompanies the armies on their way.” And when everyone had returned, when no one needed to cross the threshold of war anymore, only then was the bronze closed. Peace was a door finally shut.
The door is left open as long as a traveler has not returned.
—Is it true the Romans prayed to you before Jupiter? He was the chief, though!
It's true, and it surprises, I know. Jupiter was the king of the gods, the most powerful. And yet, in every prayer, I was named first, before him. Why, do you think? Because I am the god of beginnings. Before reaching the greatest, you must cross the first door. My name comes from the word janua, which means “door” in my language. Imagine entering a great palace: before greeting the king at the far end, you first cross the threshold of the entrance. Well, that threshold was me. I was prayed to first so that the prayer could begin.
Before reaching the greatest of gods, you must first cross my door.
—What exactly did you guard, the doors of houses?
All doors, my child, and all thresholds. The Romans entrusted me with the entrance to their homes, temples, and even cities. Imagine a Roman key, heavy, made of bronze: they said I held that power, the power to open and close. But I guarded not only wooden doors. I also guarded invisible passages: the start of a journey, the first strike of a pickaxe in construction, the morning of a wedding. Before every great undertaking, I was called upon to preside over the beginning. You see, a door is not just a piece of wood. It is the place where one thing ends and another begins. And that place belonged to me.
A door is the place where one thing ends and another begins.
—Is that why the month of January bears your name?
Exactly, my child! You've understood everything. The first month of the year, Ianuarius, is my month. January comes from Janus. Think: what better guardian for the threshold between the year that ends and the one that begins? With one face I look at the past year, with the other at the new year. The first day of January was entirely dedicated to me. At dawn, the Romans addressed their wishes to me. Imagine an entire city, on the same morning, turning to me to ask for a good year. It was a sweet moment, full of hope. Together, they crossed the threshold of time. And I, standing between the two years, welcomed them from both sides at once.
January is the threshold between the finished year and the one that begins.
—Did you receive gifts for New Year? Like we do?
Things were offered to me, yes, but mostly the Romans gave them to each other. At New Year, they exchanged small presents called strenae. Sometimes they were dates, honey, figs, sacred branches: sweet things, so that the year would be sweet. Imagine giving a friend a sweet fruit and saying: “May your year be as good as this honey.” That was the idea. And by offering me honey cakes, wine, and burnt incense, they asked me to bless the passage into the new days. The taste of honey, the smell of incense: that is what the beginning of a Roman year was like.
They offered each other honey so that the year would be as sweet as it.
—Are you very old? Did you exist before Rome?
Very old, my child, older than you imagine. Pliny the Elder, a Roman scholar, called me the oldest deity among the Romans. I was already there in the old Latium, that region around Rome, when the Italic peoples lived in small villages. Before the great temples, before the emperors. Imagine hills covered with forests, shepherds, simple stone altars. That is the world I come from. A hill in Rome still bears my name: the Janiculum. When they say I am the god of beginnings, it is also because I was there at the beginning of everything, even before Rome had walls.
I was there before Rome had walls.
—Who established you in the city of Rome at the beginning?
There are beautiful stories about that, my child. After Romulus founded Rome, a wise king came: Numa Pompilius, the second king. He was a man of peace, who loved the order of sacred things. It was he who established my rituals and conceived the idea of my doors opened in war and closed in peace. Imagine a king who, instead of seeking battle, sought to appease his people through just ceremonies. That was Numa. Thanks to him, I found my place in the heart of the city, I the old god of Latium. Kings pass, my child. But thresholds remain. And as long as there are doors, I will be remembered.
Kings pass. But as long as there are doors, I will be remembered.
This imaginary interview was generated by artificial intelligence from sources documented in Janus's profile. It dramatises what the figure might have said based on what we know about them, but does not constitute attested historical testimony. For primary sources and factual documentation, refer to the full profile.