Race and the Myth of the Origins of Rome

A New Translation from Julius Evola

Translator’s Note

This essay by Julius Evola was originally published in the journal La Difesa della Razza (The Defense of the Race), a mid-20th-century publication addressing themes of race, culture, and identity. In this piece, Evola explores the mythological and symbolic foundations of Roman origins, with a particular focus on the legend of Romulus and Remus. Through his characteristic metaphysical lens, Evola examines how the foundational myths of Rome reflect deeper spiritual and racial truths.

Central to Evola’s analysis is the idea of divine lineage and its significance in shaping the destiny of a civilization. The myth of Romulus and Remus, born from the union of the god Mars and the mortal woman Rhea Silvia, symbolizes the conferment of spiritual and transcendent qualities upon the city’s founders. Mars, representing the principle of warrior virility, imbues not only the twins but also the city of Rome itself with a martial and sacred ethos. This divine inheritance is foundational to the identity of Rome as a civilization rooted in strength, order, and the sacred.

Evola also examines the motif of the twins’ rescue from the Tiber, interpreting it as a symbolic victory over chaos and mortality. This theme, thoroughly enmeshed in Indo-European traditions, signifies the transcendent destiny of Rome’s founders and their bond with higher, spiritual forces. Evola links this archetype to other Indo-Aryan and Mediterranean myths, revealing its universal resonance within the Aryan spiritual heritage.

The essay situates Rome’s founding myth within a broader framework that transcends materialist interpretations, offering an understanding of myth as a reflection of spiritual realities and racial archetypes. Evola’s work serves as both a cultural analysis and a metaphysical reflection on the forces that shaped one of history’s most enduring civilizations.

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In his Life of Romulus, Plutarch writes:

Rome would not have risen to such power had it not had, in any way, a divine origin, such as to offer to the eyes of men something great and inexplicable.

In his treatise On the Nature of the Gods, Cicero affirmed that Roman civilization, through its sacred knowledge, “surpassed every other nation and people.” Elsewhere, he proclaimed that the superiority of Rome rested upon its religious foundation, an understanding shared by Sallust, who described the ancient Romans as religiosissimi mortales—the most religious of mortals. This religiosity was not an empty formalism but the animating principle of a civilization destined to embody the divine order on earth.

On the other hand, in our time, all of this is dismissed as fantasy or superstition by many so-called “serious” persons and self-styled “critical” minds. For them, only the “facts” matter. The mythical traditions of antiquity are held to be of no value or, at best, are deemed confused echoes of real events—mere fragments of tangible, historical occurrences. This perspective reflects a fundamental misunderstanding, one already addressed, albeit in different forms, by figures such as Giambattista Vico, Schelling, Bachofen, and, more recently, by exponents of the metaphysical interpretation of myth, including those lesser known today, such as Guénon, W. F. Otto, Altheim, Kerenyi, and others. According to these thinkers, the mythical traditions are neither arbitrary creations confined to the poetic or imaginative domain, nor distortions of historical facts. Particularly regarding origins, it has been rightly observed that symbols and legends:

If only in a dramatized form, myths represent, actually and truly, the history of a nation's origins. Yet, this is not the history of events occurring materially on earth but rather of spiritual processes that give birth to a new people, distinct in culture and civilization, yet standing among other peoples. It is, so to speak, the history of a prenatal period.

Legend and history are intimately connected. Legend moves through an interiorization that disperses itself into symbols and images, while history externalizes itself into facts and events. Images arise from formative, living forces, whereas facts are arranged through human intellect. Legend carries one into the realm of these creative forces, while history imposes an intentional organization upon events. Yet legend, far from being mere poetry, is the hidden and invisible root of history, a reality far greater than the latter. The threads of a people’s destiny, which unfold visibly in myriad forms within their historical development, trace back to impulses and creative spheres tied to the heroes of their legends.

In a significant manner, Bachofen revealed that even when a myth, once recognized as such, is dismissed by profane history, it remains a vital testimony to the spirit of a people.

Thus, the study of mythical traditions, approached through new and insightful criteria, can yield remarkable conclusions, particularly in the context of a theory of race—one that transcends material considerations and delves into the inner, spiritual essence of race.

In light of the present anniversary of the Birth of Rome, we aim to illustrate this interpretative method by applying it to the exegesis of the myth of our origins. The legends surrounding Rome’s foundation contain an extraordinary concentration of archetypal elements rooted in the broader civilizations and mythologies of Aryan peoples. A comprehensive study would be required to analyze these themes fully, but here we shall highlight the most salient motifs: the miraculous birth, the theme of salvation by the waters, the wolf, the tree, and the rival pair of twins.

The myth of a god uniting with a mortal woman, in this case Mars and Rhea Silvia, from whose union Romulus and Remus were born, is a recurring motif in nearly all traditions concerning the birth of "divine heroes." Zeus and Leto gave birth to Apollo; Zeus and Alcmene to Heracles, the symbolic hero of the Doric-Achaean Aryan peoples. Apollo himself bears connections to the Hyperborean land and the primordial Nordic-Aryan races. Similarly, in Germanic traditions, the heroic lineage of the Volsungs, including Siegfried, claims an analogous divine origin.

In the ancient royal tradition of Egypt—whose remote origins may rightly be traced to Aryan, Atlantic-Occidental roots—every sovereign was believed to be begotten by the union of a god with a queen. Here, the myth reveals its deeper meaning, as the miraculous birth without the involvement of a mortal man was not understood literally but symbolically. Since the queen had a consort, the belief that her son was conceived by a god and awakened to life by her husband implied that the child, in his eternal and transcendent essence, was an incarnation of a decisive supernatural force, conferring upon him the royal dignity.

In the Roman mythos, Mars embodies this transcendent principle—the divine representation of warrior virility. This force stands at the origins of the Eternal City, veiled in legend, and forms the basis of Rome’s secret, sacred genesis. Thus, in traditions from the Roman Republic, the city itself was conceived as a "son" of Mars. This "Mars" force is further linked to the guardians of the sacred flame of life, symbolically embodied by a vestal, Rhea Silvia.

The tale of the twins Romulus and Remus, abandoned to and saved from the waters, echoes a symbolic theme found in many traditions. Moses was saved from the waters; the Indo-Aryan hero Karna was cast adrift in a river but rescued. Yet the most ancient Aryan tradition, the Vedic, offers the most essential insight into this symbol. There, ascetics are described as "supreme natures who stand on the waters." The waters symbolize the current of time—the essence of mortal, unstable, and fleeting existence. The weak are carried away by the waters, while the seer, the hero, or the ascetic is either saved from them or capable of standing above them, unshaken.

Thus, in the myth of Rome’s origins, the motif of salvation from the waters signifies the divine nature of the city’s founders, their supernatural dignity, and their role as embodiments of a transcendent principle that stood beyond the temporal flow.

The twins find refuge beneath the fig tree (Ficus Ruminalis) and are suckled by a she-wolf. The term Ruminal conveys the notion of nourishment, as the attribute Ruminus, associated with Jupiter, refers to the role of the "nourisher," the "god who provides sustenance" in ancient Latin. Yet, this represents only the most elementary level of the symbol. In the most ancient traditions of the Aryan races, the tree itself symbolizes universal life—it is the world tree or cosmic tree. When depicted as a fig tree in the legend of Rome's origins, akin to the fico indico (Banyan tree), the ashwattha tree of the Indo-Aryan tradition, it is often portrayed as inverted, with its roots in the heavens. This inversion signifies its divine and transcendent origin, with life emanating from above.

The idea of a mystical nourishment derived from the tree is a recurring theme across various traditions: the myths of Jason, Heracles, Odin, and Gilgamesh all feature it prominently. Naturally, the interpretation of this motif varies according to the races and their inner spirit. In the Hebraic tradition, partaking of the tree’s fruit in an attempt to become godlike is cast as a transgression, the origin of guilt, hubris, and a curse. By contrast, the myths of the Aryan races, and even the paleo-Chaldean myth of Gilgamesh, conceive of the tree differently—as a source of heroic aspiration rather than forbidden power.

In the legends of the Ghibelline Middle Ages, the heroic theme predominates, and the tree emerges as a symbol of universal empire. Reaching this tree, often located in the mythical lands of Prester John, signifies achieving the same exalted dignity that ancient Ario-Iranian rulers associated with the title of "king of kings." The tree, therefore, is not merely a representation of life but also of sovereignty, transcendent power, and the divine order that upholds empire.

Returning to our primary subject, the myth of the twins at the origins of Rome contains an allusion to a supernatural nourishment derived both from the Tree and from the She-wolf. The symbol of the She-wolf, when considered in its totality and across the various traditions it evokes, reveals an inherently ambiguous character. Both Lucian and Emperor Julian note that, in the ancient world, due to phonetic resemblance, the wolf (lupo) was often associated with light (luce): in Greek, lykos (wolf) resembles lyke (light). Yet the wolf also appears as a figure of infernal power, representing dark, chthonic forces.

Thus, the She-wolf emerges as a dual symbol—on the one hand, embodying ferocious and savage nature, and on the other, representing luminous, exalted forces. This duality is evident not only in Hellenic and Mediterranean prehistory but also in Celtic and Nordic traditions. In the Nordic-Celtic and Delphic cults, the wolf is linked to Apollo, the Hyperborean and Nordic-Aryan god. Apollo, conceived as the solar deity of the Golden Age, is closely associated by Virgil with the greatness of Rome. The designation “sons of the wolf” was thus applied to warrior and heroic peoples of Nordic-Germanic origins—a term that persisted through the epochs of the Goths and the Nibelungs.

However, in contrast to this luminous symbolism, the Edda introduces the “age of the Wolf” as a period of darkness, the eruption of savage and primal forces, a time in which chaos itself rises to challenge the forces of the divine heroes—the Æsir. This dual aspect of the wolf, oscillating between luminous order and destructive chaos, reflects the complex and multifaceted nature of the symbol within Aryan traditions, encompassing both its heroic and its infernal dimensions.

This duality can undoubtedly be connected to the principle that, according to the legend of Rome's origins, "fed" the two twins—a duality that finds reflection in their very nature, as revealed through the antagonistic relationship between Romulus and Remus. As others have observed, the theme of a single principle dividing into an antithesis—often depicted as the rivalry of two brothers, twins, or a symbolic pair—is a motif that recurs in numerous traditions. It is frequently tied to pivotal moments in the genesis of civilizations, races, or religions. For instance, in the ancient Egyptian tradition, Osiris and Set are portrayed as brothers in discord—at times even as twins. Osiris embodies the luminous power of the sun, while Set represents a dark, chthonic principle, characterized as the progenitor of the "sons of impotent revolt." Might not something similar be discerned in the Roman legend?

Romulus is the one who delineates the sacred boundary of the city in a rite imbued with meaning, symbolizing the principle of the limen—of order, law, and measure. He receives the right to name the city through the omen of the twelve vultures, a solar number. Remus, in contrast, violates this boundary and is slain for his transgression. One might say that the primordial forces of Rome’s origins differentiated themselves in this act: the dark, chaotic powers were overcome, and the luminous principle of order, Olympian dominion, and purified warrior force was affirmed.

Some have attempted to interpret the conflict between Romulus and Remus as a reflection of the opposition between distinct racial elements—Aryan versus non-Aryan or pre-Aryan types. While such investigations are undoubtedly of interest, their conclusions are often problematic if confined to the realm of material facts, archaeology, or anthropology. They gain greater coherence when myth and legend are integrated, revealing symbolic elements that supplement inquiries in these other domains. To undertake such an approach, however, requires the willingness to trace the broader frameworks of ancient Roman society, including its possible racial substratum. For example, as some writers have suggested, the caste system of early Rome may well have rested upon a racial foundation, a hypothesis that merits further consideration when examining the intersection of myth and historical structure.

Within this totality, it is instructive to consider the connection between the two principles symbolically embodied by Romulus and Remus and the two hills—the Palatine and the Aventine. The Palatine, as we know, is Romulus’ hill, while the Aventine is associated with Remus. According to ancient Italic tradition, the Palatine is also where Hercules encountered the virtuous king Evander, who significantly established a temple to the goddess Victoria on this same hill. This encounter followed Hercules’ conquest and slaying of Cacus, the son of the Pelasgian (pre-Aryan) god of subterranean fire. Hercules triumphed over Cacus in his cavern, located on the Aventine, and there erected an altar to the Olympian god with whom he was allied, as recounted in the Hellenic myth. Scholars such as Piganiol have suggested that the duel between Hercules and Cacus—and the corresponding opposition of the Palatine and Aventine—may represent a mythical transcription of the conflict between peoples of different races.

The mythic account of Rome’s origins is thus imbued with profound significance. The victory of Romulus and the death of Remus symbolize the foundational act of Romanity, the first chapter in a dramatic struggle—spiritual, social, and racial—that unfolded both externally and internally. This battle, partially discernible and partially veiled in symbols, gestures toward underlying realities yet to be fully penetrated, realities existing in what one might call a “third dimension.” Through this enduring conflict, Rome gradually rises, asserting itself as the triumphant manifestation of a principle of light and order, an ethic and vision of life that, in its original purity, bears witness to the Aryan spirit.

The conclusion of Rome’s origin myth, according to the most enduring traditions, culminates in the apotheosis of Romulus. Deified after the destruction of his mortal form, Romulus is said to have:

"returned from earth to heaven, borne aloft by the dazzling fire."

This is no mere fantasy, nor poetic invention, nor rhetorical flourish. Analogous accounts recur across the traditions of many peoples, exhibiting a striking uniformity that should inspire contemplation. In the myth of Romulus, one perceives not only faith but also spiritual certainty: the affirmation of a reality that transcends the man and the symbol, a reality that is not bound by time but endures eternally. It is a testament to a race capable of recalling and embodying the mystery—a greatness that stands beyond history itself.

End.