Marshall J. Becker
In memory of Loretana Salvadei
From the earliest Greek and Roman reports about the Etruscans’ culture, some of their customs were considered to be shocking, if not simply interesting. The ethnocentrism of the reporters, or their belief that their own mores were the only correct system of behavior, led some non-Etruscan observers to emphasize specific differences in their lifestyle, such as overeating (Turfa 2012 and her Chapter 22 in this volume) and conspicuous consumption (see Chapter 20). Ethnocentric ideas also tend to link any differences in behavior with biological differences, a fallacy that equates culture with “race.” By pointing out different Etruscan cultural behaviors, some Greek and Roman observers, following Herodotus, further implied that their neighbors were not only outsiders, but also immigrants into Italy from some location where lesser peoples existed (Briquel 2013: 40–45).
Anthropological research over the past 150 years has not altered popular perceptions that behavior is biologically based or that culture is an inherited rather than a learned phenomenon. The Roman perception, based on the writings of Herodotus (c.400 BCE) and accepted by the scholarly community until quite recently, was that the Etruscan “people” had migrated to Italy from Lydia in western Turkey. Dionysius of Halicarnassas (c.100 BCE) believed the Etruscans to be an indigenous Italic people, yet the archaeological community took many years to provide conclusive support for the position that Etruscan society was the product of in situ (autochthonous) development (Briquel 1984, 1991, 1993, 2013; also Camporeale 1997). Many others have since employed new data to reach the same conclusions, but the subject of the differences between Etruscans and Romans, two proximal if not overlapping cultures, continues to be of interest. The recent renewal of apparently retrograde ideas supporting a migration of Etruscan peoples into Italy from Turkey (see below) leads us to revisit the contributions of physical anthropologists (human biologists) to the discussion.
In 1958, Gordon E.W. Wolstenholme, founding director of the Ciba Foundation in London, organized one of several symposia around the theme of Etruscan origins (Wolstenholme and O’Connor 1958). It brought together several leading Etruscologists, who offered useful syntheses of what was then known about their culture and remains. Some compared ancient with modern bones (e.g., Barnicot and Brothwell 1958), while others addressed “genetical characteristics” and “blood groups.” These were the biological data sets then available to scholars who wished to consider possible relationships within and the ancestry of a specific population. Group discussions revolved around these yet unproven techniques, revealing an awareness of their limitations. Fifteen years later, I brought these same approaches with me to Italy to investigate similar questions regarding native populations and Greek colonists (Becker 1982a, 1982b, 1985).
Following the 1958 symposium, Don Brothwell went on to ask other questions about Etruscan skeletal biology (Brothwell and Carr 1962). It was evident even then that there was an insufficient series of skeletons available from any site, and any particular period of time at that site, to provide a useful reference population. Not only were such samples seemingly unattainable, but no efforts were being made to collect the skeletons. The ability to reach any conclusions based on the limited evidence, however, did not deter efforts to “evaluate” small Etruscan skeletal samples. Not considered in these early studies were the problems of subjective evaluation of even the most basic matters, such as the age and sex of individuals. The need for statistical methods that might have given meaning to the data sets went unnoticed.
The impressive tomb architecture, wall paintings, gold jewelry and the outstanding examples of imported Greek pottery found in both funerary and religious contexts have long been the focus for archaeological research in Etruria. Assemblages of elite artifacts provided the principal database through which Etruscan society was known. This “embarrassment of riches” (Becker 2005a) attracted so much attention in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that the tomb contexts in which these objects were found, the villages and cities in which these people had lived, and other aspects of Etruscan life, were largely ignored. For nearly two centuries, their skeletons remained of marginal interest to Etruscologists. The bones within these tombs, trampled by tomb robbers in the past and disregarded by early excavators, have only recently been recognized as a valuable source of information about life in Etruria’s various urban and rural communities.
During the middle decades of the nineteenth century, there had been some interest in the data that could be recovered from the human skeletons at Tarquinia and other archaeological sites. A history of these early studies has been discussed elsewhere (see Becker 2002a: 70–74; Ms. A). During that period, a number of physicians and anatomists suggested that regional variations in skull shapes could be used to identify the origins of specific populations and individuals. The possibility that this approach could be used to contradistinguish Etruscans from Romans, and to match Etruscans with Lydians, appears to have gone unrecorded. Efforts by these proto-physical anthropologists to formalize craniometric data in meaningful ways were thwarted by a number of factors. The use of biological evidence to understand Etruscan origins and aspects of Etruscan society has come a long way since Nicolucci (1869) and others wrestled with these issues. Questions involving the incidence of brachycephaly (e.g., short, or round-headedness) as it related to the Etruscans was then a dominant aspect of this research. However, the “sexing” of skeletons by these early physical anthropologists was only of incidental interest to antiquarian concerns in the nineteenth century.
Controversies regarding head shapes and their meanings, or perhaps lack of significance, now can be understood in terms of the history of archaeology in Italy and elsewhere. The failure of skull studies was among the factors that led Italian archaeologists in the early twentieth century to follow a separate path from their colleagues in physical anthropology (cf. Becker 2002a: 12–17). Unfortunately, by the 1920s, the proto-physical anthropologists had created an impression among archaeologists that only intact skulls, if any bones at all, were worth retrieval.
As the archaeology of Etruria matured, aspects of modern skeletal research became a useful means by which Etruscan social organization might be explored (cf. Becker 2002b). During the past 50 years, the various techniques used to study human remains and interpret the findings have become increasingly sophisticated (Arnold and Wicker 2001). Now, even partially recovered skeletons, a few teeth, or even a sampling of the bits of bone from cremations can yield reliable data on age and sex (Becker 1999a, also 1982a; Becker, Turfa, and Algee 2009). In contrast, during the nineteenth and most of the twentieth centuries, Etruscan grave goods were used to evaluate the gender of their “owners.” In some cases, these evaluations are highly reliable (e.g., Toms 1986). Where artifacts were not found in graves, or do not provide a clear indication of gender, skeletal material can be used to answer many questions (see Bietti Sestieri, De Santis, and Salvadei 1988).
Recently, the problems inherent in only using grave goods to evaluate the presumed sex of the deceased were demonstrated after the discovery of two, or perhaps more, burials in an intact tomb at Tarquinia in 2013. Overseen by Alessandro Mandolesi (University of Turin) and Alfonsina Russo (Soprintendenze Archeologica dell’Etruria Meridionale), the excavation of a rock-cut tomb in the Doganaccia necropolis yielded full grave goods as well as a complete skeleton lying on one of the benches. As reported on Archaeology Magazine’s website on September 20, 2013 and subsequently repeated widely through popular web media (Lorenzi 2013a), the “spear” found next to the body led a reporter to identify the deceased as a man. Also in the tomb were the burned remains of a second individual, then said to be his wife. Subsequently the sexes of these two individuals were reversed, again based on the grave goods. The individual whose artifacts included the spear was declared to be “an aristocratic woman” (Lorenzi 2013b). No physical anthropologist was present during the excavation and to date no scientific study of the bones has been conducted. Professor Mandolesi has extended an invitation to me to study these remains. If skeletal recovery was limited and multiple cremations within perishable containers in the tomb were present, the evidence for these may be recognized.
Pieces of skeletons or a single tooth are, of course, far less informative than carefully excavated skeletons. Even as late as the 1980s, as the need to recover significant numbers of skeletons from a single time period within a single site became more evident to human biologists, the recovery of human remains from Etruscan tombs continued to be ignored. Some archaeologists in Etruria came to recognize the importance of recovering more than intact human skulls, yet the general perception was that physical anthropologists worked in laboratories on whatever skeletal material was delivered to them. Over the many months I was present at Tarquinia, only rarely was I called into the field to aid in the excavations. During the seven years in which I spent a month each season at Tarquinia (1988–94), and after several decades of research on human skeletal remains in Italy, many of the scholars and the various problems that plague studies of these remains became well-known to me.
Since 1981, the recovery and analysis of human remains recovered from excavations at Tarquinia have set the standard for research in this field in Etruria. After the 1987 discovery of the Tomb of the Blue Demon (Cataldi 1987, 1993; Gore 1988), Maria Cataldi initiated a long-term program of skeletal study at Tarquinia (see Becker 1990, 1993, summarized in 2005a) under the auspices of the Soprintendenze Archeologica dell’Etruria Meridionale. The data have enabled us to evaluate not only how these tombs were used but also to understand better how Etruscan society operated as a whole. Skeletal studies at Tarquinia have provided a small database from which several questions can be considered.
The actual and specific roles of women in Etruscan society became a focus for research in the 1980s (Nielsen 1985, Rallo 1989; also Becker 2002c). At this time, Marjatta Nielsen (1988–1989) posed an innovative question relating to an apparently skewed sex ratio as suggested by the evidence from Etruscan archaeological contexts (see Becker 2005a). Nielsen’s research focused primarily on the inscriptions and other non-skeletal data relating to the “Late Etruscan” period in Tarquinia. Hopkins (1966) had largely discredited the use of epitaphs alone in exploring general demographic analyses among the ancient Romans (e.g., Durand 1960), a position recently reaffirmed by Scheidel (2001). Nielsen (1988–1989: 54) explored a somewhat different approach, seeking to understand trends relating to the interment of women as well as the role of women and families within ancient Etruria by examining funerary inscriptions and comparing them to the extremely limited osteological data then available (see Becker 2005a: n. 3). Nielsen found some agreement in the archaeological and biological data sets, despite the limited information from skeletal remains study (Mallegni, Fornaciari, and Tarabella 1980: 190; but, see Becker 2001a). Nielsen’s incorporation of osteological evidence therefore provided an important “new” facet of modern studies of this ancient society (cf. Becker 2005a).
Nielsen had “not looked at single tomb complexes” at Tarquinia for various reasons, primarily, the lack of published data regarding the skeletons of the actual people found in these contexts (Nielsen 1988–1989: 54; cf. Becker 2005a: n. 4). Today, considerably more skeletal data are available from these small tombs at Tarquinia (e.g., Becker 1990, 1993, 2002b, also 2000; Vargiu and Becker 2005: 409–411), and they reveal that the sex ratio at this site is in agreement with Nielsen’s evidence from Etruscan funerary inscriptions (1988–89: 57).
Inscriptions associated with inhumations at Tarquinia can be tied to the burials of higher-status individuals. A bias in favor of males would be expected among these inhumations. Females, on the other hand, are more commonly represented among the cremations. Examination of any series of cremations from these Etruscan contexts, even where inhumation was the norm as at Tarquinia, reveals a reversed sex ratio, with females being the overwhelming majority of the cremated individuals found in urns. This is true for the people in cinerary contexts at Tarquinia as well as for Etruscans represented by bones held in the Etruscan urns at the National Museum in Copenhagen (Becker 2001b, also 1997a), at the Field Museum (Becker 1995a), and in many other museum collections. Where cremation was the normal mortuary process, as at Volterra, females were more commonly placed in smaller cinerary chests than males (Becker 2001a). The finding that women had lower status than males is related to the sex-ratio phenomenon at Tarquinia, where we have, perhaps, the largest number of skeletons, inhumations and cremations that have been studied from any Etruscan site.
Nielsen’s questions had been formulated at a fortuitous point in time. The skeletal research program at Tarquinia provided the evidence that confirmed her inferences regarding an apparently distorted sex ratio among individuals interred within Etruscan tombs (see Table 13.1). However, analysis of the 40 human skeletons recovered from Tarquinia during extensive excavations in 1989 found a sex ratio that was highly skewed in favor of women. These findings reflect the problems associated with consideration of sex ratio in populations of fewer than 50 people where statistical chance is a major factor. The sex ratio for the combined 1987–89 excavated populations appears “normal,” but these figures were not sustained when new data were added from excavations after 1989. As the number of individuals in the sample increased, the balance shifted toward a far greater number of males than would be expected in a normal population. In any skeletal study, the larger the population evaluated the more likely it will reveal a normal sex ratio. This is the case at Osteria dell’Osa (ancient Gabii; see Becker and Salvadei 1992) where the population recovered for study was over 600. The larger the size of any skeletal population included in a specific study, the less factors of “chance” play in distorting the sex ratio.
Table 13.1 Sex of Adults from Tombs at Tarquinia (revised from Becker 2005a).
| Date of excavations and references | Male | Female | Unknown | Total |
|
1987 (Becker 1990) |
16 (59 %) |
9 (33 %) |
2 (8 %) |
27 |
|
1989 (Becker 1993) |
15 (37.5 %) |
23 (57.5 %) |
2 (5 %) |
40 |
|
1987–95 (Becker 2002a) |
99 (49.5 %) |
70 (35 %) |
31 (15.5 %) |
200 |
| Totals | 130 | 102 | 35 | 267 |
Note: Williams et al.’s (2012) report on 278 adults from Tarquinia covers the period through the first century BCE, a period that may or may not include the 79 undated individuals. Their numbers suggest that only 11 adults have been studied or added to this collection since 1994.
By 1995, when the total number of individuals in this specific new skeletal study at Tarquinia had reached 200, the discrepancy between the numbers of males and females had grown to the levels anticipated by Nielsen. The expected human sex ratio of c.“98” (c.1:1) was not found, but a 1:1 sex ratio could be achieved in this sample if all 31 of the “sex unknown” skeletons were female. While this is unlikely, the percentage of females in the “sex unknown” category may be high. At Tarquinia, during the period when large chamber tombs were in use, factors associated with social complexity influenced the apparent sex ratio derived from skeletal analysis. Status differences are factors that appear in the burial conditions, as females of the family as well as household slaves are buried in lower-status places within the tombs (see Arnold 1988). It is likely that most of the unassigned individuals are females, accounting for the apparently skewed sex ratio. Lower status burials from Tarquinia were summarized in Becker 2005a (from Cavagnaro Vanoni 2002: passim; see also Becker 2007).
The principal occupants of the large chamber tombs at Tarquinia were the heads of the elite families for whom the structures were built (Bonfante 1981). How their in-marrying wives related to the overall composition of these “families” remains an issue of particular importance (cf. Becker 2002b). Nielsen (1988–89: 65) equated the Etruscan lautn with the Latin familia, seeing it as an extended unit that included the slaves and other property of a kin group. Anthropologically speaking, the Etruscan “house” may have been a residential kin group consisting of the patrilineal core members and anyone else resident with them. The unilineal descent rules (patrilineal) well-known for the Roman culture presumably paralleled those of the Etruscans, with both systems being cross-cut by factors of residence as related to marriage (cf. Becker 2005a). As a residential kinship unit, the Etruscan lautn conferred on the occupants of the “house” various rights, including burial within or near the family tomb. For large tombs, the dromos and chamber or chambers are considered as distinct from the smaller tombs in the immediate vicinity (e.g., Cavagnaro Vanoni 2002).
Several scholars have suggested that Etruscan tombs at Caere (modern Cerveteri), and perhaps other Etruscan cities, replicated or paralleled the structure of the household (cf. Prayon 1975: 149–174), an idea that has become generally accepted (J. M. Turfa: pers. com.). Prayon’s speculative suggestion now can be tested. At Tarquinia, where we now have extensive skeletal data, there is no evidence of a relationship between these well-documented Etruscan tombs and the arrangement of the “houses” in which the dead had lived. We infer that slaves as well as stable hands and other nominally “free” individuals who lived outside the main residence, or chambers, of the living must be buried nearby, if not in lesser parts of the large chamber tombs of these Tarquinians. Lower status members of the household were cremated and placed in perishable containers that were placed in lowly parts of the tomb chambers, or in the dromos. Or they may have been buried outside the chamber tombs, in pozzi dug into or around the tumulus covering the main tomb (cf. Serra Ridgway 1996: 133–147; Vargiu and Becker 2005).
Nielsen’s (1988–89: 84–89) discussion of seven possible “tomb types” addresses many questions relating to the variety of status rankings within a family, as represented by the people who might be found within a large tomb. Nielsen’s “types” derive from elite tombs while ignoring the more simple interments that survive in considerable numbers at Tarquinia. I suspect that even greater numbers of cremation burials of lower-status individuals, both within large tombs and outside of them, were not recognized because they included only perishable grave goods and had been placed in perishable containers. Nielsen’s varieties of social differences need to be extended to include slaves and low-status non-slaves as well as those people who had various degrees of freedom and were resident with a high-status family but not their kin. Certainly some house slaves and other chattel were buried within large tombs, but they were placed in locations that everyone would have recognized as reflecting their lowly positions within the household (for more on slavery in Etruria, see Benelli 2013).
Lucia Cavagnaro Vanoni (2002: 375–376) points out that cremation burials at Tarquinia reappeared in the early sixth century and continued to be used through the third century. Cremation during this period formed but one variation in individual mortuary programs, but individuals interred within these impressive mortuary structures were differentially placed depending on their status. In the large chamber tombs at Tarquinia (e.g., see Figures 3.3, 19.1, 24.4), there are many possible locations for placing burials outside the primary bench surfaces where inhumations and cremations in urns were generally located. Cremations also were placed in stone or ceramic urns, chests, and all sorts of perishable containers such as wooden stave containers, baskets, and bags of leather or cloth. These lesser containers were placed on the floor space between benches, in niches and the floor along the dromos, and even on the steps leading to a dromos. Bags also could be hung from nails driven into the walls anywhere within the tomb.1
Cavagnaro Vanoni’s (2002: 384–393) important study of Tomb 5967, dated to c.450–425 BCE and described as a “Tomba con costodia,” includes a prime example of a cremation buried within a perishable container. A hollowed block measuring roughly 50 by 60 centimeters was inverted over the burial, which included a fine pelike (see Cavagnaro Vanoni 2002: Fig. 13:1) in which a few human bones were found. This small vessel measures only 20 centimeters in diameter and stands 25.7 centimeters tall. The volume of a container needed to hold a complete adult human ossilegium is much greater than provided by this small vessel (but see Becker 1996a). Nearby, to the south and a bit west of the pelike, was a pile of bones in a perfect circle that was c.20 centimeters in diameter. This feature most likely represents an ossilegium that had been placed in a wooden (perishable) vessel similar in form to Chiusine wheel-turned cinerary urns. F. Mallegni and G. Tartarelli suggested “che tutti e due I gruppi di ossa” (both of the groups of bone) from the pelike and from the circular pile, are adult remains, both probably female (pers. com. to Cavagnaro Vanoni). They found no duplication or overlap in the two sets of bones and indicate that these could derive from only one person. This theory is perfectly reasonable, but the archaeological evidence suggests, in contrast, the presence of two people, perhaps a woman and her maid.
As noted above, the Iron Age practice of cremation reappeared at Tarquinia during the early sixth century BCE (see also Becker 2002a: 697–698 n. 2, for the skeletal evidence showing it in place by the late sixth century) and may have been a space-saving part of the mortuary programs for lower-status people (but, see T. 6272, Becker 2002a: 695). The nature of the container into which a person’s bones were deposited also reflects their status: it could be a marble urn or chest, an imported Greek vessel, a wooden box or a leather bag. Comminution of the ossilegium would considerably reduce the size of the container needed to inter these bits, and in some cases, not all of the burned bone may have been included (cf. Becker 1996b). If placed in a perishable container, the pile of burned bone that was gathered and then interred could easily go unrecognized, even by excavators concerned with careful skeletal recovery. Any number of other “cultural formation processes” (Weiss-Krejci 2001: 769; Becker 1996b) could contribute to difficulties in bone recognition in the field, and thus hinder the retrieval of skeletal material. Both of these factors reduce the chances for subsequent study and interpretation.
Status variables relating to gender among the elite as well as to the positions of lesser kin in the household and their retainers and slaves, are lost when not recorded in the archaeological record (see Arnold 1988). Field and galley slaves, for example, may not have been interred within these chambers, or even within the principal cemetery area. Yet, the remains of some low status members of the household may have been dug into the burial mound or into the surrounding ground that formed part of the complex that constituted a family tomb. The extraordinary density of tombs of all sizes at Tarquinia, and their intertwined entries and chambers, would require considerable effort to reconstruct their spatial boundaries, but focusing only on the elite goods within these chambers allows a great deal of evidence to be ignored. Whether we can reconstruct details of family groups, or of other non-kin relationships among these multiple interments, remains to be seen (cf. Swaddling and Prag 2002).
Problems of data recovery can be overcome by collecting even the smallest bits of bone and teeth from a tomb, as demonstrated by Gabriella Barbieri (2004: 175–189) in her Appendix 2 of the Blera excavation report (Becker 2004). In the past, the application of methods of careful data recovery was often ignored because archaeologists were distracted by the impressive architecture, painted walls and luxury goods within these tombs and failed to search for bits of burned bone and other ephemeral indicators of cultural behavior. Lack of attention to these details reflects a view of archaeology made while standing on the left side of the “Great Divide” that separates Classical Archaeology from the archaeology associated with American anthropology (see Dyson 1993). As indicated by the recent subjective pronouncements made regarding the sexes and perhaps the numbers of individuals found at Tarquinia in 2013, the present situation regarding skeletal studies in Etruria remains problematical. Pronouncements made by archaeologists prior to a professional evaluation by trained scholars continues to distort information regarding tomb use at Tarquinia and in most other parts of Etruria.
Note was made earlier that the sex ratio of the 600+ people recovered during the excavations at the Late Iron Age settlement at Osteria dell’Osa, ancient Gabii (Bietti Sestieri 1992a, 1992b) was within the expected range (c.1:1; Becker and Salvadei 1992). There were also minimal status differentials at this site, and incipient class stratification appears only in its later phases. The sample from Tarquinia that is the focus of this chapter dates from the sixth to first centuries BCE. The latter periods reflect an urbanized population with the complex social stratification that characterized what we call Etruscan society. Features of urban life in Etruscan Tarquinia are reflected in the complexity of tomb use patterns that we now are trying to decode.
Archaeological data indicating where in a large chamber tomb each individual was placed enables us to make reliable inferences regarding the social class of that person. Where we have these data for the people within the tombs at Tarquinia, the results of the skeletal analysis provides impressive suggestions regarding social behavior in ancient South Etruria. For example, the bones of the 28 year-old female found lying on the floor of Tarquinia’s Tomba 6276 represent a servant (Becker 2002b: 699). Lower status also is inferred for two or more women found in the dromos of Tomba 6272. The main chamber of Tomba 6272, however, includes two benches on which are distinctly different assemblages of bone. The left bench held 4 adults (2M, 2F), including one female who had been cremated. On the right bench, only the bones of a female aged 15.5 years were recovered. The possibility that the cremated remains of other sub-adults who were in perishable containers also were on the right bench cannot be verified. The damage done to human remains by looters, and the problems of excavators who could not recognize burned skeletal remains, renders difficult the recovery of the evidence needed to evaluate the placements of people of varying status and age categories (Cataldi 2001).
Human males typically die at a rate faster than women at every stage of life. The factors are not well-known, but the higher rate continues after birth, and at puberty, a time that includes “more risky behaviors,” or what is called “the risk-prone behavior hypothesis.” As Ian Owens (2001: 2008) points out, “male-biased mortality among nonhuman mammals has also been explained in terms of more risky behaviors by males compared with females.” These questions of sex differences in mortality are important to understanding and interpreting our expectations regarding skeletal populations.
Regardless of mortality patterns, ultimately all members of a society die and are subjected to mortuary programs that include burial. Collectively, the ages at death of all members of a society provide the information needed to reconstruct a mortality curve. All these people may not be buried in a single cemetery convenient for excavation. The similarity of mortality curves from one society to another is remarkable, with differences so minimal as to render them nearly indistinguishable from one culture to another. Thus when Nielsen asks, “Where have all the women gone?” she is seeking an answer that relates to the cultural patterns used by the Tarquinians to dispose of their dead. Her question also may be posed as “Where are the ‘missing’ women interred?” Nielsen used a data set that is strongly status-related (inscriptions) to determine the gender of the people in these tombs, and her results seem to correlate extremely well with the skeletal evidence. However, the skeletal evidence may also reflect status differences in the use of cremation at Tarquinia as well as problems of skeletal recovery.
The lower status of women in South Etruria reflects a common cross-cultural phenomenon, with a correspondence expected between funerary treatment and biologically determined status, as indicated by stature, from that context. When Jon Robb and his colleagues (2001) did not find this type of correlation at Pontecagnano, they concluded that their findings probably were anomalous. At Tarquinia, as at other Etruscan sites, we would not expect women to be equally represented in mortuary inscriptions, but more commonly found in less elaborate mortuary contexts such as small cinerary urns. Surprisingly, of the 23 cremations from recent excavations at Tarquinia (Becker Ms. A), 13 were evaluated as male and only nine as female (one could not be sexed). Thus, the evidence from those cremated bones that have been recovered during recent excavations at Tarquinia once again suggests the presence of more males than females in this small sample. This may be a result of recovering, or retaining, only the burned bones that are found in the more elaborate containers and discarding, or failing to recognize, clusters of burned bone that had been held in perishable containers.
Of note in reviewing these skeletal data from Tarquinia are Nielsen’s suggestions (1988– 1989: 62) regarding the “Archaic Period” (650–500 BCE), or roughly the period that Cataldi calls “The Urban Peak” (580–475 BCE). The ratio of female to male skeletons is even lower than the c.40 percent that Nielsen suggests as an overall average at the site based on the texts. This observation also can be tested using the skeletal data from the two related groups used in my own analysis from Tarquinia. Among the 27 burials dating from the latter part of the so-called “L’Età dei Principi” (725–580 BCE), plus those from the Urban Peak (580–475 BCE, see Table 13.1), we find only eight females represented (30 percent). If we include burials from the earlier part of “L’Età dei Principi,” the total number of burials goes up from 27 to 32 but the proportion of them that are female drops to 28 percent (Becker 2002b). These skeletal data from Tarquinia thus provide significant support for Nielsen’s observation regarding the sex ratio of burials made during her designated “Archaic Period.” This finding could be an accurate indication of the changing status of women in Etruscan society. Lower status for women would be expected within the earlier periods of urbanizing Etruria. Various types of change in Etruscan society, as recognized in the archaeological record, may be setting the stage for the improved status of women, at least among the emerging elite (see also Dyson 1988).
If we return to the basic analyses of these individual skeletons, we find that a great number of “males” are identified in the records as “M ???” (that is, “possibly male”). Most of these derive from smaller, less well-positioned cremations of the type that we might identify archaeologically as “female.” If these are shifted to “F ???,” the sex ratio appears to be more “normal.” Also of importance in this evaluation is the observation that the two periods spanning 725 and 475 BCE have significantly skewed sex ratios. In my previous study of these data (Becker 2002b), I had suggested extracting the 32 burials in the sample from Tarquinia that are dated to between 725 and 475 BCE from the total of 200 adults identified here and evaluated for all periods at the site. This generates a sample of only 168 individuals from other periods, including 76 males (46 percent), 61 females (36 percent) and 31 indeterminate (18 percent). These percentages are close to an expected sex ratio (see Table 13.2). While these numbers are interesting, and perhaps suggestive, they still lack statistical significance. Considerably more information will be needed to sustain any conclusions based on this limited and preliminary sample.
Table 13.2 Numbers of males and females in this sample arranged by periods defined by Cataldi (1993; skeletal evaluations from Becker 2002b).
| Dates | Male | Female | Sex unknown | Age 5.5–16.5 | Notes |
| 900–725 BCE | 1 | 0 | 0 | 0 | |
| 725–580 BCE | 11 | 5 | 0 | 0 | |
| 580–475 BCE | 12 | 4 | 0 | 3 | In a cluster of bucca graves |
| 475–425 BCE | 1 | 0 | 0 | 0 | |
| 425–375 BCE | 0 | 2 | 0 | 1 | The only unsexed case now has been reevaluated to be a child of age 12 |
| 375–250 BCE | 23 | 23 | 10 | 7 | 4 are definitely children |
| 250 BCE–90 CE | 8 | 6 | 6 | 1 | 5 others need further study |
| 90–500 CE | 3 | 3 | 2 | 1 | |
| Modern | 0 | 2 | 0 | 0 | |
| Undated | 40 | 27 | 12 | 0 | 33% of the entire population are not dated |
| Totals | 99 | 70 | 31 | __ | N = 200 adults |
In re-examining the Tarquinia data, ten years after the publication noted in Table 13.2, I suggest that there may be other factors relating to finds from the period between 725 and 475 BCE that created an “unbalanced” skeletal sample. What may be needed is closer study of the archaeological contexts of those 250 years of history at Tarquinia. The osteological studies used at this site, overall, provide a well-documented sample of remains that derive from contexts with a 1400-year span. The 200 adults identified, therefore, provide us with only one person per seven years of activity at that site. The best sample within the collection at Tarquinia consists of 46 adults from the period between 375 and 250 BCE. While this is a significant sample, we do not know how genetically mixed this population might have been (cf. Lazer 1997: 102–106). While not necessarily “internationally” mixed, prosopographic data suggest that marriage among high-status families, such as those best preserved in Tarquinia’s elite tombs, was considerable.
Another interesting finding from the research program at Tarquinia concerns the presence of children in the funerary environment. Of the 200 individuals identified, only 13 (6.5 percent) were found to be sub-adults (16 years and under), and none of these 13 was below 5.5 years of age.
Placement of cremations within perishable containers was initially suggested as an explanation for the low numbers of sub-adult finds and the complete absence of remains of children below the age of 5.5 years in the various cemeteries at Tarquinia.
However, children between the ages of 5.5 and 16.5 years at Tarquinia appear in normal percentages. In fact, perinatals and children below 5.5 years were buried in separate and special cemeteries (Becker 1997a, b; esp. 2007, 2011) throughout Etruria. These special zones, in the vicinity of a spring or water source, insured that their spirits would have a route back to being reborn. Children above the age of 5.5 years were buried in the adult burial area (Becker 2002b: 695–696). Cremation was used for processing the remains of “relatively” lower status individuals and these ossilegia may also have been added to other cremation “urns” or placed into perishable containers for burial.2
Sub-adults between the ages of 5.5 and 16.5 years are represented in expected numbers in the chamber tombs as well as the smaller pozzi graves at Tarquinia. Nielsen (1988–1989: 54) believed that slaves and most of the children of the household “must have been buried in a way that has left no traces in the archaeological evidence.” This conclusion derives from her assumption that skilled attempts had been made to recover and study cremations at Tarquinia. Contributing to this problem at Tarquinia is Nielsen’s (1988–1989: 54) discounting of the “occasional skeletons or [cremations in the] small ollae found in the tombs.” These containers are precisely where we would expect to find the remains of lower status individuals, including women and sub-adults in this population.
In her important publication documenting 158 fossa graves and nine pozzi graves (N = 167), Cavagnaro Vanoni (2002: 375) notes that evidence for the presence of children is rare. She suggests that the 80-centimeter length of Tomb 6095, which was above and cut into T. 6070, plus the presence of an aes rude, indicate that this grave may have held the bones of a child (Cavagnaro Vanoni 2002: 375, 455–456, 463). The aes rude suggests a third-century BCE date. Unfortunately, neither bone nor teeth were recovered from Tomb 6070, which had been excavated prior to 1987. Cavagnaro Vanoni notes that the only other indications of possible children’s graves might be inferred from two small sarcophagi, both of which are more likely ash chests used for adults.3
Thus, the significance of these “missing” children has been recognized since the initial studies. Children below 5.5 years of age were not yet admitted to the status of “adults” in their community, and therefore they were buried in their own cemeteries (Becker 2007; also 2005b, 2011). In fact, this different mode of burial can be used to resolve different periods of time as well as to distinguish cultural boundaries, as between Romans and Lucanians (Becker 1982a, 1996a, 1996b, 1997b, 2006).
Etruscologists need to pose specific questions regarding the bones in Etruscan tombs and, like Cavagnaro Vanoni, to utilize the data from them in cemetery reports. Entire cemetery publications have been devoid of any reference to human bone (Becker 2005a). Careful recovery and storage of bones are the only ways to enable evaluations of age and sex to be made.
In recent years, archaeologists have made a few serious attempts to understand the origins and development of Etruscan society. Of considerable note is the material evidence for an apparent “shift” in Etruscan society during the period from 500 to 375 BCE. Giuseppe D’Amore, more specifically, locates the focal point of major changes in the material record at around 480 BCE (D’Amore, Pacciani, and Pezzulli 1999). How this shift relates to changes in social organization is not made clear, but the date suggested provides a pivotal point for examining any number of aspects of life in Etruria before and after this time. D’Amore’s hypothesis also can be examined using the skeletal record. Becker (2002b: 693–697, esp. 697 n. 2), using Cataldi’s chronological divisions (“Urban Peak”: c.580–c.475 BCE, followed by “Years of Crisis”), notes the biological evidence for the reappearance of cremations at Tarquinia about this time (see also Cavagnaro Vanoni 1996). Data on changes in the stature of Tarquinians at that time also warrant review (cf. Becker Ms. B). Nielsen (1988–1989) believes that there may be evidence that indicates changes in family structure and social organization at Tarquinia between 500 and 450 BCE.
The common perception that technological change, as represented by shifts in, or new additions to, the material culture, is the basis of Nielsen’s inference. Cultural anthropologists consistently demonstrate that changes in functional material goods as distinct from ornamentation (or cultural markers?) may be accepted rapidly by the members of a culture, who either add them to materials at hand or make appropriate substitutions of new materials within the existing cognitive framework. Resistance to certain items occurs when those materials carry cognitive loads that threaten cultural identity. For example, Native American cultures in the Delaware Valley, as all along the eastern coastal areas, rapidly accepted cloth, metal, firearms, and glass beads into their material assemblages. They diligently rejected all items of silver and gold for over two centuries (Becker 1992), because they were identified as emblems of European “culture.” The social organization of any society is vastly more resistant to change, requiring several generations to begin to shift, and needing three centuries to effect a complete transition (Murdock 1949). Technological change, therefore, can be identified as a precursor of social change at Tarquinia, but the interval required for shifts in social organization would be in excess of the 125-year period between 500 and 375 BCE that is discussed by D’Amore and his colleagues. However, material changes that took place during the first quarter of the fifth century would be archaeologically identifiable, and could reflect an alteration in the pattern of use in one or more aspects of Etruscan material culture.
Actual social structure and social change remain difficult to evaluate archaeologically, but there is some written evidence from Etruria that offers relative information (see Capdeville 2003). Efforts to resolve questions relating to heterarchy (a political structure that is non-hierarchical) among the Etruscans (see Becker 2002b) are particularly difficult to address. We have become accustomed to using data on changes in material culture, as seen in tombs, or biological variations as evidence for economic changes. These may be related since shifts in economics, or resource availability, are most commonly translated into food intake. The amounts as well as the types of foods used by the members of a culture, or of classes within a stratified society, are highly sensitive to economic change. In turn, better nutrition is rapidly reflected in changes in the stature of the generation maturing during a period of improved diet (Becker 1999b). Increases in wealth leading to increases in stature also may correlate with the wealth that went into the construction of larger and more elaborate tombs.
However, stature increases may apply only to the highest-status people in these tombs (Becker 2002a). The construction of large tombs with long entry corridors permits the inclusion of servants and other low-status individuals, in appropriate status-ranked locations such as on the tomb floor between the benches. Thus, the “average” stature of the people in a tomb may reflect the inclusion of members of a household from a range of status levels. Status differences for individual skeletons therefore can be predicted both by location and stature. Specific locations of skeletal remains are still afforded too little attention in the studies of these bones.
A lack of data from cultural anthropology also impedes progress in understanding or recognizing the meaning of the archaeological evidence. Use of terms such as “tomba principesca” to describe elite burials persists because the excavators have no anthropological equivalents with which to describe such finds (that this continues today can be seen in the characterization of the deceased individuals found in the recently-discovered tomb at Tarquinia cited above). The possibility of a heterarchical structure, and its importance for Etruscan social and political organization (see Becker 2002b), is absent from the discussion.
Early in my studies of human biology in Italy, I became interested in studying the effects of Greek colonization on the native populations in Sicily (Becker 1982b, 1985). This was during a period of increasing computer sophistication that offered improved techniques for conducting complex evaluation of large series of metric and non-metric skeletal traits. After years of searching, I realized that the basic data, in the form of adequate skeletal samples, simply did not exist in Sicily or anywhere else in Italy (cf. Lazer 2007). This problem continues to be an issue in Italy and elsewhere.
More than three decades after the CIBA symposium, another tool for identifying “racial groups” (Cherfas 1991: 1355) entered the picture. Studies of DNA were recognized as having considerable potential to answer many questions relating to human history, but among Etruscologists, the question of origins remained of interest. Despite the promise of these techniques, various problems continue to thwart the effective use of DNA in addressing these questions. Problems of contamination are foremost, but a host of other factors reveal most findings to be un-reproducible.
Several early papers investigating mitochondrial DNA set the tone. These even focused on southern Tuscany and the region surrounding Tarquinia (Bertorelle et al. 1996; Francalacci, Bertranpetit Calafell, and Underhill 1996; Francalacci 1997). An interesting array of papers considering the potential for DNA analysis in Etruscan research was assembled in an early issue of Etruscan Studies (1997). Leading this assemblage is G. Camporeale’s brilliant 1997 summary of the subject of Etruscan origins, in which he concluded that this was an indigenous population that had emerged from local “Villanovan” cultural roots. There follows a series of papers summarizing data that would be better provided at length. Unfortunately, these studies lacked clear statements about where the samples originated. In this regard, consideration should be given to locations where the skeletal evidence is questionable, such as at Poggio Civitate (Piazza et al. 2007). This is one of many sites at which standards of skeletal recovery and curation may be wanting. Some sets of results need more than usual scrutiny.
We remain confident that Etruscan studies can be augmented by various approaches involving the tools of molecular biology. Studies using new technologies of DNA research could provide basic information on sex as well as clues to biological kinship. The absence of such findings reveals a great deal about both the failings in the methods and the goals of the research (Becker 1999c). For this reason, the use of DNA studies is expanding throughout Italy (cf. Becker 2002d: 61–63), with a particular focus on Tuscany, where A. B. Chiarelli (University of Florence) has long stimulated cutting-edge research in human biology.
Before continuing my analysis of DNA research, it is important to acknowledge the reviews of these studies published by Jean Turfa (2006) and Phil Perkins (2009). These provide landmark summations of the various DNA studies that are relevant to Etruscan populations. My conclusions are in complete agreement with theirs, and I can add to them only through my familiarity with the recovery (or lack thereof) and preservation of the skeletal remains purported to have been the sources of the DNA utilized in the studies. These early studies found high variability in the “control region of mitochondrial DNA” and interpreted this as supporting immigration. But from what sites and to which periods of time were the samples derived? These studies uniformly suffer from a failure to employ any kind of double-blind mechanisms. In addition, the absence of the basic data on exactly which specific skeletons were tested, from a region in which I am familiar with the skeletal “populations” available for study, is of particular concern. Furthermore, the absence of a basic listing of sample data from these “studies” prevents replication of the research and the establishment of programs that could verify or negate the conclusions reached. The absence of any orderly program to further these studies suggests that the findings are random, if not fatally flawed. This is also suggested by the apparent abandonment of further research in this vein. Now that we have a number of DNA studies from Etruscan Italy, we can trace a trajectory that appears to be going nowhere.
The findings of the study by Cristiano Vernesi and colleagues (2004) provide data that may be of use, both in method and conclusions. They identified 80 skeletal samples from a series of sites spanning the seventh to the third centuries BCE, but were forced to eliminate 50 of them for various reasons. The remaining 30, ultimately reduced to 28, derived from seven sites across almost the entire range of Etruscan influence. Two sites produced one sample each, neither of which could be assigned a date. The authors concluded that this array of individuals is as genetically variable as the modern Tuscan population. Conversely, despite the range of time and space variables, they found no significant heterogeneity in their sample, leading to the conclusion that they shared a single mitochondrial gene pool. As Turfa (2006) points out, the extensive trade and intermarriage documented on Etruscan tombstones, along with the late dates of the skeletons used in this study, almost guarantee a mixed population. The Vernesi team generously made available this sample for further research.
A re-analysis of 28 of the specimens from Vernesi’s study published by Malyarchuk and Rogozin (2004) questioned the integrity of the DNA tested. If this disparate population originated as immigrants, why were the earlier arrivals not compared with their descendants? How do these findings relate to those of scholars seeking to delineate DNA sequences within Turkey and relate these data to European evidence (see Comas et al. 1996)? How do the Etruscan data relate to the findings of Salas et al. (1998) whose efforts are aimed at delineating the genetic margins of what is considered to be “Europe”?
Efforts to support the “immigration” theory by the examination of the bones of the DNA of the cows raised by the Etruscans (Pellecchia et al. 2007) are even more interesting. Animal bones may be the only subset of archaeological materials in Etruria traditionally of less interest than their human remains. I am even more skeptical of the availability of records relating to these materials than I am of data on the latter. In short, the research that I envisioned as answering my questions on the biological impact of Greek colonization in Sicily (see Vona et al. 2001) has not been possible due to a lack of basic skeletal collections (see Becker 2002a).
The “Etruscan” papers all differ sharply from studies that seek to identify diversity among specific and identified populations of a single period (e.g., Corella et al. 2007). More controlled research has been conducted with European populations (e.g., Brandstätter et al. 2008; also Richards et al. 1996a, 1996b). Most of the Etruscan DNA articles suffer greatly from random selection of “available” material, which results in a mélange of data representing a vast area and extremely wide temporal variations. All of these studies also ignore the vast numbers of slaves held by the elite (see Briggs 2003), as if this subject were the dirty little secret of the ancient world. In the Etruscan realm, as elsewhere in antiquity, these slaves would have contributed greatly to genetic diversity. Searching for the genetic structure of individual “households,” as represented by the many people within and around major tombs in Etruria, might prove both more useful, and scientifically valid, than efforts to tie Etruscan society to some fictional population in ancient Lydia.
Above all, the absence of well-recovered skeletal samples forms the primary problem with applying DNA analysis to questions such as Etruscan “origins.” When scholars conducting a study of Etruscan DNA need to gather stored bones from “six different necropoleis” in Tuscany to put together a sample of bones from 27 people for study (Trei 2006) one gets a sense of the poverty of data available. Trei’s subsequent reference to “different population scenarios” – that is, those containing a “small (25,000 females) or large (300,000 female)” population – can be sharply contrasted with the numbers of Etruscan skeletons available from all of Etruria over a period of 1000 years. DNA studies have failed to be applied to, let alone answer, some of the fundamental questions that have been posed regarding the people of Etruria. Rather, these DNA studies seem to exist in a realm free from archaeological data. In addressing “big” questions, such as Etruscan origins, DNA studies reveal the weaknesses in this line of research. Four issues hamper these projects. Contamination is the most obvious. Failure to conduct blind research is a second. Concealment of sample origins renders reproduction of the experiments impossible. Finally, as with too many research programs of which I am aware, political maneuvering makes the entire process pointless.
Applications of these new methods of analysis to questions regarding tomb use at Tarquinia should reveal that these “family groupings” included non-kin as well as resident slaves, perhaps from beyond Etruria. DNA research also may confirm my hypothesis (1993: 39) that the woman buried in Tomba 6262 at Tarquinia had married into this population from another city (see Bartoloni 1988; also Arnold 1988). Moreover, the possibility that Seianti Hanunia Tlesnasa (Becker 2002d) and a woman who may have been her cousin were participants in “female exchange” (Swaddling and Prag 2002) has also been considered. Many other questions relating to the actual inhabitants of these large burial chambers, who all together were the residents of these Etruscan towns and cities, still depend on basic archaeological research. Skeletal remains must be recognized as providing information of value: to this end, their specific contexts must be recorded, and the materials must be collected appropriately and adequately curated. Then, all of this information must be made available to scholars concerned with answering questions about the lives, deaths and burials of these ancient inhabitants of Etruria.
Recent studies of founder effects on Native American genetic diversity (Hunley and Healy 2011; Raff et al. 2011) have refined the methods by which human population dispersals, settlement patterns, and other interactions have influenced regional population histories. The application of these methods of study to better-defined skeletal populations in Etruria may go a long way to complementing other studies aimed at defining the Etruscan people. In Tarquinia, in particular, questions of sample size and experimental design, as well as a disregard for archaeological contexts and dates, leave the results of the early studies of Etruscan DNA less than satisfying. There is only one Etruscan city where a major effort was made to encourage recovery and careful storage of human bones. But even the extensive study of human skeletons at Tarquinia – a city from which we have the best-preserved collection of Etruscan remains – reveals that the basic evidence for understanding their population is still quite limited.
Jacobo Moggi-Cecchi et al. (1997), in a very traditional odontometric study, point out how little information we have on the teeth of this interesting population. Their effort recognizes that, as of 1997, except for the situation from Chiusi where some 30 skeletons may be known, excavations at most sites have very few skeletons (one or two at the most) and many have no conserved remains. This situation is all the more peculiar since one of the more interesting features of Etruscan society was their use of ornamental dental pontics. We need to view this phenomenon through a review of dental health at Tarquinia.
Elsewhere I have discussed the relatively high concentration of dental appliances found at Tarquinia (Becker 2002c; also 2000). These gold ornaments, only worn by women, are rarely identified in the archaeological records, but they must have been concentrated in the tombs of the highest-status, or perhaps wealthiest, individuals. These large tombs were looted years ago (cf. Becker 1999d). The wealthy Etruscans in these tombs, and the population as a whole, had relatively good dental health. Dental decay and molar loss tend to be concentrated in the population after age 50, with gradual loss of anterior teeth correlating with people in their 60s and later. Incisor loss was rare. Thus, the ornamental application of these oral ornaments required the evulsion (i.e., the deliberate removal) of one or both central incisors to create a location for the bridge. This ornamental technology was later applied by the Romans in the construction of dental appliances that replaced missing teeth, or simply stabilized or held in place teeth that had loosened due to periodontal disease. Periodontal disease is common in many populations after age 40. The movement of teeth is accelerated with any dental loss, such that molar loss initiates a cascade of problems in the mouth.
The slow collection of data and the gradual accumulation of new perspectives that is central to the scientific process operate within a very small community of scholars. Whether it be herbal cures for cancer or Etruscan origins, the public retains traditional views regardless of the “evidence” amassed by scholars and shared through a literature of limited circulation that is entirely unknown to and unwanted by the public. Thus, a new book on the Lydian origins of Etruscan origins (e.g., Magini 2011) is sure to sell many more copies than any of the scholarly tomes of recent years. Similarly, DNA specialists are more likely to find support for unlikely, but popularly-known theories, than to search for methods of inquiry that are more in keeping with the scientific method. The use of publicists to convey the meanings of supposedly academic findings (e.g., Trei 2006; also Achilli et al. 2007) reinforces popular beliefs. The large numbers of authors working with Achilli is impressive, yet they cannot locate a significant skeletal sample and their results remain unimpressive.
A seven-year program to study the human skeletal remains recovered from Etruscan tombs excavated at Tarquinia was initiated in 1987 in cooperation with Maria Cataldi of the Soprintendenza Archeologica dell’Etruria Meridionale. Data from the skeletons of 200 individuals recovered during this unique project provide significant direct evidence for the biology of these people and for detailed information regarding the ways in which the people of Tarquinia buried their dead during the sixth to first centuries BCE. Of particular note is the apparently greater numbers of males found in large tombs at the site. The apparently unequal sex ratio is a result of gendered differences in the use of cremation by the Tarquinians. Adult females at Tarquinia were cremated at a higher rate than males. In addition, female ossilegia (gathered cremated remains) often were placed in perishable containers made of wood, skin or cloth. The decay of these containers further confounds the recovery of evidence for female remains placed within Tarquinian chamber tombs.
Also noted in these tombs are the extremely low numbers of sub-adults and complete absence of children below the age of five and a half years. These findings regarding burial customs provide insights into household dynamics and social organization in ancient South Etruria. The special cemetery areas, or possible residential locations, for these children have yet to be discovered (but see Becker 2005b).
Over the past decade archaeological studies focusing on questions relating to gender have made important contributions to the reconstruction of interesting aspects of a variety of cultures. By focusing specifically on women and their roles within an ancient society, scholars have been able to elicit information important to the understanding of gender in specific contexts. In the classical world, the artistic as well as the written record has provided visual means of studying women and their roles within their society. Therefore the archaeology of gender as a specific focus has not been seen as either a new or an innovative approach. That said, we might note that a number of modes for evaluating gender in archaeological contexts applied outside of the Mediterranean area might be used profitably in Italian contexts. The art historical and epigraphic evidence relating to women in Etruscan tombs has raised a number of questions that may be answered through studies of the biological evidence and the use of anthropological models. The apparent disproportionate numbers of women in Etruscan tombs may be rectified using skeletal evidence that reveals expected gender-related status differences within Etruscan households. These differences are mirrored in the deposition of the remains of women in Etruscan tombs, at least at Tarquinia, in contexts less likely to have been identified as bones and recovered for analysis. Modern excavation techniques conducted by members from multidisciplinary teams are essential to the recovery of data from any context. This is particularly true in the case of large chamber tombs with multiple burials. The results will provide data revealing sex ratios more consistent with predicted numbers based on biological norms.
My considerable thanks are due Dr. Maria Cataldi, of the Soprintendenza Archeologica per l’Etruria Meridionale, for her kindness in organizing a long-term program of skeletal research at Tarquinia (1987–1994). Thanks also are due the director and staff of the Museo Nazionale in Tarquinia, and to Estelle Lazer for her kind sharing of data. Special thanks are due Dr. Jean MacIntosh Turfa for her careful reading of this manuscript and for her many important suggestions. Dr. Jacopo Moggi-Cecchi, Dr. Simona Minozzi, Philip Perkins and Prof. N. Negroni Catacchio shared data from their own research and provided useful advice and encouragement of this study. Dr. Jonathan Friedman’s aid during the last phases of this project was particularly important.
The continuing support of Prof. Richard Swain and Prof. Adel Barimaniu has been critical to this study. Their encouragement for this and many other projects is gratefully acknowledged. The final season of this skeletal research project at Tarquinia was entirely funded by a generous grant from the National Geographic Society (5326-1994). All of the ideas presented here, as well as any errors of presentation or interpretation, are entirely the responsibility of the author.
Nineteenth-century studies of Etruscan human skeletons focused entirely on adult skulls, in the belief that comparative morphology would reveal specific population differences and allow the “origins” of these people to be traced (Nicolucci 1869). This trend continued well into the twentieth century. A major shift in Etruscan skeletal studies began with a long-term program of curation and study begun at Tarquinia (1987–1994) under the direction of Dr. Maria Cataldi and supported by the office of the Soprintendenza per Etruria Meridionale. These studies led to a series of papers that examined health and stature, status differences, and the roles of women and children at Tarquinia, with implications for Etruria in general (Becker 1990, 1993, 1997b, 1999b, 2002b). Further questions regarding status differentials within “Etruscan” populations have been raised by Robb et al (2001) using a population from Pontecagnano for their focus (cf. Becker 1995b). A proposal to develop a “research project on the population biology of ancient Etruscans” (d’Amore et al. 1996: 159) also included methods that might be used to explore Etruscan origins. The results of this long term “multidisciplinary research project” are anticipated. Efforts to utilize DNA to decode Etruscan origins, generally believed to be an in situ development, have been sharply contradictory (Turfa 2006). On the utility of DNA in archaeological of death and burial generally, see Collins et al. 2009 and Bramanti 2013