Romans in America: Myth, Mystery, and the Quest for Forgotten Footprints

What if everything you knew about ancient exploration was just the tip of the iceberg? Picture this: long before Columbus set sail, Roman ships braving the wild Atlantic, driven by wind, curiosity, and ambition – landing not in Britain or North Africa, but on the distant shores of the Americas. It sounds like the plot of a historical thriller, yet a fringe theory with a few tantalising clues has kept historians, treasure hunters, and armchair adventurers alike asking whether the Romans really made it across the ocean. Let’s dive into the mystery and ask: Did the Romans reach America?

The idea of pre-Columbian transoceanic contact explores whether peoples from Europe, Asia, or Oceania reached the Americas before Columbus in 1492. The most widely accepted case is the Norse Vikings’ settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland around the year 1021 AD – about 500 years before Columbus’s arrival.

Yet another case, which remains a topic of much debate, is whether there were Romans in North America.

This story, often relegated to the fringes of historical debate, finds its origins in a handful of enigmatic artefacts, such as amphorae, coins, a gladius sword, and even alleged shipwrecks, all supposedly found among ancient ruins in North America, but how much of this remarkable story is compelling myth, and how much might be historical truth?

Did Rome leave its mark on the New World as it did on the Old? Did the reach of the Roman Empire stretch further than history records? Were there really Romans in America? Let’s take a time trip back to antiquity in an attempt to decode this tantalising transatlantic tale.

The answer to the question ‘did Romans reach North America’ began to take shape in the nineteenth century. This was when antiquarians and amateur historians started examining Classical texts and investigating mysterious ‘out-of-place’ artefacts such as the Tecaxic-Calixtlahuaca Head, which we’ll get to shortly.

Some enthusiasts pointed to brief references in the works of Pliny and Pomponius Mela – believed to be the earliest known Roman geographer – who mentioned lands beyond the Pillars of Hercules, interpreted by some as possible hints of territories west of the Mediterranean. Others searched through medieval maps for clues suggesting the existence of a western continent. As these ideas gained attention, scattered discoveries (or alleged discoveries) of Roman coins and other small objects in North America were eagerly promoted as evidence of Romans in America, even though professional archaeologists increasingly questioned both the origins of these artefacts, their provenance, and the chain of custody – the documentation of the handling, transfer, and storage of an artefact from discovery to display.

Next, we’ll take a closer look at the discoveries – including a possible image of a pineapple, and a strange carved stone head – that have fuelled this century-long story of Romans in North America.

The mosaic floor in the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme in Rome, dating from the early first century AD, famously depicts a basket of fruit that appears to include a pineapple among more familiar Mediterranean produce like figs, grapes, and pomegranates. Since pineapples are native to South America and weren’t introduced to Europe until the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century, this detail has puzzled historians, some of whom have speculated that Romans might have had contact with the Americas.

Does this prove there were Romans in North America? Not exactly. Most scholars and botanists dismiss this idea, arguing that the supposed pineapple is actually a stylised pine cone, a common motif in Roman art symbolising fertility and widely depicted in mosaics and frescoes of the period. The resemblance is nothing more than a coincidence, they argue, and there’s no credible archaeological or botanical evidence that pineapples – or any other New World crops – were present in ancient Rome.

The Tecaxic-Calixtlahuaca Head is a small terracotta object discovered in 1933 by archaeologist José García Payón in a pre-Spanish conquest burial site dated to between 1476 and 1510 in the Toluca Valley, about sixty kilometres northwest of Mexico City. What makes the head remarkable is its strong stylistic resemblance to Roman artefacts from the second or third century AD, a conclusion broadly supported by thermoluminescence testing that dated its manufacture to between the ninth century BC and the thirteenth century AD. Because of this, some researchers have suggested it could provide answers to the question ‘did the Romans reach America.’

This theory has generated significant debate, with proponents suggesting the artefact might have arrived in Mexico via a Roman, Phoenician, or Berber shipwreck, or through indirect trade routes long before Columbus. However, mainstream archaeologists remain sceptical, pointing out alternative explanations such as the possibility that the head was brought to Mexico during the early colonial period and was later mixed into an older burial site. Others have suggested it could have been planted as a hoax. Despite these controversies, the Tecaxic-Calixtlahuaca Head continues to intrigue scholars and the public alike, standing as one of the most debated out-of-place artefacts in the Americas.

For over two centuries, Oak Island in Nova Scotia has attracted treasure hunters and inspired countless theories, including the idea that Roman artefacts might be hidden in its famous Money Pit. Stories of Roman coins, ceremonial swords, and inscribed stones have circulated since the nineteenth century, mostly promoted by amateur enthusiasts rather than supported by archaeological research.

The most famous of these is probably the so-called “Roman sword of Oak Island”, which burst into public imagination in the mid-2010s, when it was claimed that a ceremonial Roman-style sword had been discovered off the coast of Nova Scotia, near the famously mysterious Oak Island. Heralded by some as potential evidence of ancient transatlantic contact, the sword quickly became a media sensation. However, sceptics and scholars soon pointed out inconsistencies: metallurgical analysis suggested it was a modern replica, likely made in the nineteenth or twentieth century. While the sword’s origins remain debated, mainstream archaeology considers it a red herring – more myth than milestone in the story of Roman exploration.

In reality, no genuine Roman artefacts have ever been authenticated on Oak Island, or indeed any other ancient ruins in America. Most of the claims are now seen as part of the island’s colourful folklore or the result of nineteenth century treasure scams, with objects probably brought by later visitors, used as ship ballast, or deliberately planted to enhance the island’s legend.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a collection of large ceramic jars known as amphorae – containers used by the ancient Romans to store and transport wine, olive oil, and other goods – was discovered submerged in Guanabara Bay near Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, a site often called the ‘Bay of Jars.’ These amphorae were first brought to wider attention by American treasure hunter Robert Marx, who argued that they were remnants of a Roman shipwreck dating back over two thousand years. If they were genuine, it would suggest that there were Romans in South America centuries before the Portuguese, challenging established history and implying the Romans were more accomplished sailors than previously believed.

However, the discovery quickly became controversial. Brazilian authorities later revealed that the jars had been deliberately placed in the bay in the 1960s as part of a scheme to create fake antiques, casting serious doubt on their authenticity. While a few experts noted the jars’ resemblance to Roman amphorae, explorations were banned by the Brazilian government in 1985, and the true origins of the jars remain uncertain. As a result, there’s no solid evidence to support the claim of a Roman shipwreck in Brazil.

The Romans were accomplished shipbuilders and mariners, building both coastal and deep-water ships which allowed them to dominate the Mediterranean and reach distant shores such as the British Isles. Indeed their naval expertise laid the groundwork for later Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese explorers, who would eventually cross the Atlantic.

Roman ships, influenced by Greek and Phoenician technologies, were robust and advanced for their era, and some reconstructions suggest they may have been able to survive long sea voyages. However, the huge distances, unpredictable storms, and powerful currents of the Atlantic Ocean presented vastly different challenges far beyond the routine scope of Roman trade and exploration.

Crucially, there’s no evidence in Roman literature or maps to suggest they ever planned or attempted an Atlantic crossing, nor, is it believed, did they have any awareness of lands as distant as the Americas.

While there are some pre‐Columbian transoceanic contacts that have been well-documented – Vikings in Newfoundland, Polynesian voyagers in South America, and even possible visits from West Africa (Guinea and Mali in particular), the case for Romans in North America remains confined to speculation and intrigue.

No DNA, botanical, or architectural evidence substantiates a Roman presence, and the handful of artefacts once touted as proof have largely been explained as modern intrusions or misidentifications.

However, the fascination with a possible Roman connection to America persists, leaving the answer to the question ‘did the Romans reach America’ as a captivating mix of myth and mystery.