Myth runs that not far from the Marta River, in a place still bearing the signs of the largest Etruscan temple known to history, a fatal event occurred: from a newly ploughed furrow there sprang a divine being — a child in body, an old man in wisdom — who revealed the discipline of their religion to the Etruscans. Tarchon, to whom the child/old man, Tages, had appeared, founded a sacred city on the site of the prodigy and called it Tarchna, that is Tarquinia.
In time, Tarquinia increased so much in size and population that only Athens, after its victory over the Persians, could equal it. It was beautiful, lively, colourful and pervaded with riches, the breath of civilisation and culture, and the use of every possible refinement.
Its splendour is miraculously reflected in the wall paintings of its necropolis, dug out of the golden limestone and still steeped in colour. Its blue, red, black and olive green colours still look fresh, as though the ancient artists had painted them only days before. Visitors descending into the tombs are magically transposed twenty-five centuries back in history, into the heart of the great Etruscan families, their houses and hunting pavilions. There they will witness their ceremonies and feasts among dancers, musicians, and banqueters dressed in their precious robes, their mute servants dancing attendance.
Or, as if on a time machine, they may find themselves outdoors, fishing in youthful eagerness in seas of blue, rippling waves and hunting a myriad of birds flying in the sky. They might end up among athletes, wrestlers, boxers, discus throwers, and gladiators equipped with helmet, shin-guards and shield, stealing upon them at their tensest, while rigid with concentration. Chariots can be seen swiftly darting across the walls of the Etruscan tombs of Tarquinia. The winner, by now certain of victory, looks over his shoulder to check on his opponents. Behind him, a chariot lies overturned with a broken shaft, its horse rearing, its charioteer lying in the dust.
In the 7th century BC a very wealthy man, partly a pioneer and a coloniser, but mostly a civilser, started out from the great, opulent, lively and sacred Tarquinia. His name was Luchmon and became the fifth king of Rome, taking the name of Tarquinius Priscus. It was he indeed who transformed a prehistoric settlement of huts, scattered over seven hills around a swampy ford of the Tiber River, into a place with unmistakably urban characteristics. He brought with him the insignia, the ceremonies and the legal institutions of Tarquinia. Among these was the Imperium, complete with its majestic symbolism of authority, dignity, sacredness, untouchability and command. The other public display of Etruscan origin, persisting as the most characteristic and solemn of Roman events for the next millennium, was the triumphal procession of the conqueror marching through the city with his victorious troops, followed by a cortège of vanquished prisoners in chains and cartloads of the spoils of war.
The work begun by Tarquinius Priscus was carried on and completed by two successive Etruscan kings, Servius Tullius and Tarquinius Superbus. However, Rome soon became a great engine of war and the first to be crushed were the Etruscans themselves, including Tarquinia, mother of both the conquered and the conquerors.