"You could hear women lamenting, children crying, men shouting. There were some so afraid of death that they prayed for death. Many raised their hands to the gods, and even more believed that there were no gods any longer and that this was one unending night for the world." —Pliny the Younger, circa A.D. 97 to 109
It all lasted 19 hours.
Then, there was only a long, deathly silence. Pompeii lay buried for nearly 1,700 years. It wasn't until 1748 that archaeologists began slowly uncovering the ancient city, preserved under 9 feet of volcanic ash and frozen in time by Pliny the Younger's vivid report.
About three-fifths of the city has been liberated from the solidified volcanic ash and pumice that engulfed it. But many questions remained unanswered for a long time.
What was life like under the volcano? What exactly did happen that summer day in A.D. 79? Here we take a look into the latest findings.
Yet, in ancient times, Herculaneum was a dream town. Overlooking the Bay of Naples, it was the aristocratic dwelling of a wealthy elite, a cluster of fabulous villas and gardens.
"Herculaneum could not stand out in all its importance because of problems with digging. The resistance of the volcanic material made it very difficult to excavate, not to mention the urban settlements that had grown above the ancient town. There is still a lot to discover about this place," archaeologist Mario Pagano, director of the town's excavation, said.
Indeed, a 18-year dig led by Pagano near the ancient seashore has provided the conclusive evidence on how the victims of history's most famous volcanic explosion died.
The excavation uncovered 300 bodies, a significant and precious sample of Herculaneum's population, which at the time of the eruption in A.D. 79 numbered about 5,000.
Pagano's team found bodies of adults on the surface, many carrying money and valuable objects; deeper down, they found children and newborns.
Most of all, Pagano found 80 nearly intact bodies trapped by death as they packed into 12 storerooms on the beach to escape the molten lava and boiling mud pouring down from the crater.
It has long been assumed that the victims died from asphyxiation. But a study of the bone fractures and the position of the remains, indicates that the fugitives died instantly from extreme thermal shock when the surge hurled down on the beach area, covering the seven miles to the coast in about four minutes. Herculaneum was baked in seconds.
"These 80 people do not display any evidence of voluntary self-protective reaction or agony contortions. They were killed before they had time to display a reaction, in less than a fraction of a second," said study author Giuseppe Mastrolorenzo, a volcanologist with the Vesuvius Observatory.
The finding prompted a team of archaeologists, vulcanologists, geologists and anthropologists to draw a diary of Herculaneum's last hours.
1 p.m.: When the people of Herculaneum saw a column of smoke bursting from Vesuvius, reaching nine miles into the sky, they looked around, astonished. As the first ash fell on the roofs of their houses, they understood it was time to run. Most stopped to gather what belongings they could: money, jewels, the family dog. Everybody rushed into the streets. Some thought the sea was their route to safety; those who didn't try to escape on boats assembled on the beach.
Midnight: The cloud reached almost 19 miles into the sky, and torrents of lava poured down Vesuvius. The beach probably offered a spectacular view of the eruption, but the fugitives didn't live much longer to admire it.
Aug. 25, A.D. 791 a.m.: A cloud of gas and ash plunged down on the town; the hot breath of Vesuvius killed the fugitives in a fraction of a second. By studying bone fractures and the position of the remains, anthropologist Paolo Petrone and volcanologist Giuseppe Mastrolorenzo established beyond a doubt that the fugitives were wrapped in a 900-degree Fahrenheit cloud. They died instantly of thermal shock, not from slow suffocation as scientists long assumed.
1 to 6 a.m.: More surges followed.
7 a.m.: A devastating surge killed the remaining inhabitants of Pompeii; they lay down with death on a thick carpet of pumice.
8 a.m.: Silence fell on Herculaneum and Pompeii.
NEXT PAGE: THE STORY OF LUPERCUS »
Lupercus is one of the only victims whose identity has survived, thanks to his personal bronze seal declaring his status as an imperial slave. This fictional account of his last day is based on the recent findings.
It was a summer night in A.D. 79 and Lupercus watched a young couple sitting cross-legged on the beach at Herculaneum. They looked like they were under the spell of the Cupids on the fresco near the Decumanus Maximus, but it wasn't a romantic moment. The couple was frightened; torrents of hot mud were spewing out of Mount Vesuvius.
Lupercus cleaned his mouth with his left hand. Despite the sea breeze, his tongue felt furry with thin ash. In the other hand he held his bronze seal, inscribed with "Lupercus Augusti servus." It was the only thing he took with him as he rushed to the beach.
He looked again at Vesuvius, worried. "I am close to the water, I shall be safe," he reassured himself. But what would happen to the imperial villa he had to take care of? He had worked so hard to make a good impression on the emperor and be released one day.
After all, he wasn't a just a common slave. He had been appointed with a great responsibility: he had to take care of the garden of the villa that had belonged to the lunatic emperor Caligula.
He looked around at the crowded beach. The women wore their most beautiful jewels. Lupercus recognized the matron of the house with the mosaic atrium: she was wearing rings on every finger and two beautiful bracelets in the shape of snakes. A more modest woman was carrying a basket with nuts and pomegranates, while others carried bronze oil lamps.
"It is going be a long night," Lupercus thought. Some lay on the beach to sleep, while many others decided to find shelter in the boat chambers.
Lupercus entered the one reserved to men. He noticed the doctor with his bag of surgical instruments and a soldier clad in armor, who stood at the entrance.
There was nothing to do but wait. They huddled together in a circle, talking late into the night.
Suddenly, an unbearable heat struck like lightning. The soldier was thrown on his face, his arms outstretched to try to break his fall. Lupercus fell with the others in a tangle of bodies.
Outside, gray ash drifted down like snow. The young couple lay solidified on the beach, the man's arm wrapped around his love.
More than 400 finds recorded by 25 international research groups in the past 10 years have provided the most accurate picture of what life was like in Pompeii.
At the time Mount Vesuvius erupted, this was a wealthy Roman trading town, famous for its fish sauce and grand villas. Indeed, it was international and cosmopolitan.
In addition to Greeks and Etruscans, the population included residents from Africa. Of Pompeii's 20,000 inhabitants, half were children. The average Pompeian woman was 4 1/2 feet tall and lived to the age of 39. The average man was a few inches taller and could expect to live to the age of 41.
Pompeians poured their savings into their houses. Wealthy people enriched their homes with elegant courtyard gardens decorated with frescoes of plants and flowers and an abundance of modern conveniences. Each room was heated by hot air running through cavity walls and spaces under the floors, while sophisticated hydraulic pumps provided running water.
The entire city had an excellent system for the control and distribution of water. From a great reservoir, water flowed invisibly through underground pipelines into drainage systems and into aqueducts supported by arches. It reappeared in the city's houses, public buildings and fountains.
"The ancient Romans achieved their power because they had a deep knowledge of technology and science, not to mention that they understood many aspects of nature," Paolo Galluzzi, director of Florence's Institute and Museum of the History of Science, said.
Having studied iconographic sources and ancient texts for three years, Galluzzi has been able to reconstruct models and computer animations of the complex machines created by the ancient residents.
"Here are impressive pieces of evidence of the degree of civilization in Pompeii," says Paolo Galluzzi, director of Florence's Institute and Museum of the History of Science.
Several of the contraptions show a surprising similarity to modern machines. For example, any Pompeian embarking on a trip could establish how many Roman miles he had traveled through the use of a contraption attached to the wheel of a cart. For every mile, it dropped a pebble into a box.
To help assemble this strikingly detailed re-creation of life in Pompeii, researchers employed a range of high-tech tools. Among them were DNA testing of bones to decipher genetic history and physical analysis of the bones to study the physical structure of Pompeians and to determine some of the most prevalent diseases, such as arthritis.
With high-powered microscopes, scientists analyzed pollens, animal bones and fragments of wood, glass, plants and daily objects to figure out the natural history of the region as well as cultural and agricultural practices.
Using 3-D forensic techniques, they reconstructed the faces of four Pompeians (including Caius Julius Polybius), bringing the ancient residents back to life hundreds of years into the future. Their blank eyes stare at a harsh, unforgiving light.
A day in the life of one of Pompeii's residents is re-created in this fictional account based on research findings.
Caius Julius Polybius woke up early that summer day in A.D. 79. He was excited: workers were to arrive soon to restore some rooms in his beautiful house.
He was proud of himself.
A descendant of a former slave who in A.D 14 wrote and read the testament of the emperor Augustus, he was now a wealthy and respected merchant.
He opened the front door and breathed deeply the cool air of the morning. Like every day, he read the graffiti on the facade of his house: "The mule drivers ask you to elect Caius Julius Polybius as duovir." He smiled.
At 65 he was finally enjoying an enviable social position, holding the most important public office in Pompeii.
He turned and began to walk through his house, stopping to look at a fresco and admire his treasure. Others in the city had more interesting pieces. How much he would have liked to have had the silver collection he saw in the House of the Meander!
Yet, he couldn't complain: on the table, lit by a bronze lamp sculpture of young Apollo, were bronzes, vases, a beautiful embossed tray, and the best piece of the collection, a Greek water container.
The house was bustling. Women were already in the kitchen preparing honey doughnuts and Julius' favorite dish, garum, a sauce made with marinated fish.
In the garden, a tortoise was sleeping under the fig tree, undisturbed by Julius' grandchild, who had just put down a tree ladder and a basket full of figs. The earth was shaking lightly beneath people's feet, but nobody cared. They were used to earthquakes, which occurred often in Pompeii.
But at noon a frightening roar made the 12 people in the house forget their lunch. Julius looked at Mount Vesuvius. A huge cloud spewed out of the massive volcano, and fire reached for the sky. Soon white and gray pumice began to fall from the column of smoke. A false night, darker and thicker than any night, descended on the city.
There was panic. People cried in terror, rushing into the streets looking for shelter. Like everybody, Julius and his family tried to escape, but a horse that had collapsed on the ground blocked their way. They returned under a shower of burning rock, flaming cinders, fragments of lava and pumice. They rushed into two rooms in the back of their house, away from the street.
They sat on the floor and waited for what seemed an eternity. In the darkness, they could hear groans of the dying and shrieks of the terrified, noises from the mountain, the sound of roofs collapsing. It was nothing compared to what was still to come.
At 7 a.m. strong winds howled down the streets, bringing sharp streams of ash, poisonous vapors and an unbearable temperature.
In Julius' garden, the tortoise withdrew into its shell for the last time.
End of slide show. But click here for ongoing archaeological work in and around Pompeii. »