The Tuscania Archaeological Survey investigated the archaeology of the countryside within a 10 km radius of the small town of Tuscania some 80 km northwest of Rome. The aim of the project was to contribute to present understanding of the processes that have shaped the development of the modern Mediterranean landscape as a physical and cultural construct. The specific research context of the project was debates about these processes in Etruria, the western side of central Italy that was the heartland of the Etruscan civilization in the mid first millennium BC: the character of prehistoric settlement prior to Etruscan urbanization; the relations between Etruscan towns and their rural populations; the impact on Tuscania and its landscape of being absorbed into the expanding Roman empire (‘Romanization’) and its economic structures after about 300 BC;the collapse of that system in the mid first millennium AD and the subsequent emergence of nucleated medieval villages (incastellamento); and the vicissitudes of peasant life through the political upheavals of medieval and post-medieval Italy. The chapter closes with an explanation of why we selected Tuscania and its intensively-farmed volcanic landscape as an ideal ‘laboratory’ for investigating this long-term landscape history, and how the project was planned.

We first summarise the principal findings of the Tuscania Archaeological Survey in terms of the diachronic settlement trends over the past 7500 years that are reconstructed in the previous chapters. The Tuscania story partly mirrors settlement models proposed by other authors for central Italy as a whole and partly diverges from them.In the second section we use a GIS analysis to compare the respective effectiveness of the three landscape sampling strategies we employed. This suggests that all three were equally effective in revealing settlement patterns in the Republican and Early Imperial phases characterized by dispersed and dense rural populations, whereas they revealed contrasting information about the less dense and more variably patterned Etruscan settlement pattern.We review the contribution of the project’s geomorphological studies to the Mediterranean alluviation debate, indicating complex interactions between climate and human actions in landscape formation. The project’s 7500–year ‘archaeological history’ chimes with Peregrine Horden and Nicholas Purcell’s characterization of Mediterranean landscape history as “continuities of form or pattern, within which all is mutability” (The Corrupting Sea, p. 523).

Funerary architecture can profitably be analysed through the lens of connectivity. As material that connected the living and the dead, both at the level of the individual and the community, funerary architecture exhibits the values held to be important in both realms and, like religious architecture, is a vehicle for connecting the tangible and intangible. The characteristics and development of Etruscan funerary architecture have to be studied mainly in their connections with settlements, society, and domestic, religious, and foreign architecture. A case study of rock tombs shows the problems that arise in trying to identify certain forms as either predominantly local or international, and thus effectively signals the limits of analyses of geographical connectivity and the need to go beyond typology in certain cases.

In the 1540s, Piefrancesco Giambullari and Giovan Battista Gelli published books in which they argued that the Florentine language was not a debased form of Latin, but derived from Aramaic and Etruscan. Their claims divided the Accademia Fiorentina for a number of years, and earned them the nickname “Aramei.”They relied especially on the writings of Annius of Viterbo, whose fraudulent works seemed to them to provide information about the region and its people that was absent from Roman sources. Their arguments about language history were unsatisfactory to many; efforts to refute them effectivelyinspired years of further research. Yet even those who opposed them were interested in finding ways to study peoples, languages, and customs. Ancient models of historical writing focused on politics and public actions, but in order to study groups of people, customs, or languages, newer approaches were needed.

Roman historians often claimed that their ancestors did not have images of the gods, but a closer look at both the archaeological and textual evidence suggests that images of the gods were venerated at Rome at a very early date. Similarly, both ancient and modern writers have claimed that Iron Age European religion was entirely aniconic. This chapter surveys Iron Age statues in stone, metal, and wood to provide evidence that the gods were worshipped in the form of images prior to the Roman conquest. The stone images include important and recent finds from the Glauberg and Vix, a large series of buste-socles from Paule, Nîmes, and elsewhere, while metal representations include statues from Bouray and St. Maur. Surviving wooden images, including those known as Holzidole from northern Europe, finds from Pforzheim, Villeneuve, and Yverdon-les-Bains, all suggest that wood was a common medium for depicting the gods in the Iron Age. These early images possessed a degree of iconographic variety that allowed the divinity represented to be identified. More importantly, the context of these artworks confirms that they were the focus of ritual, the recipients of offerings and sacrifices, and not just funerary markers or representations of local aristocrats.

This chapter examines the antagonistic relationship with Nietzsche’s Greeks that was managed by one of the main writers of modernism, D. H. Lawrence. By thinking about the position of Nietzsche in the British intellectual climate of the early twentieth century, and in particular his association to the anti-Germanic feeling surrounding the First World War, this chapter contextualises the tension between Lawrence’s antipathy towards Nietzsche and the clear resonances between the two authors’ attitudes towards the irrational nature of ancient Greece. The chapter examines the differing attitudes towards tragedy that Lawrence puts forward across his voluminous writings, including especially his 1920 novel Women in Love, his critical-theoretical essay ‘Study of Thomas Hardy’ (written 1914/1915, published posthumously in 1946), and his travel writings about his visits to Etruscan tombs. It uses the idea of the ‘gay science’, which Lawrence took from Nietzsche’s work of the same name from 1882, to situate Lawrence’s desire to establish an anti-tragic form of art and literature with a genealogy that stretches back to antiquity.