Answer: B) Pompeii
When Mount Vesuvius erupted on that August day in 79 AD, Pompeii’s fate was sealed in the space of a few terrifying hours. The city—a lively Roman port of roughly 11,000 people—had little warning. First came a shower of pumice and ash, collapsing roofs and clogging streets. Then, in the early hours, came the pyroclastic flows: superheated clouds of gas and rock racing down the volcano, killing almost instantly. Life stopped mid-motion.
But what happened after was, in some ways, even more remarkable. Pompeii’s survivors mourned and moved on, and the city itself was eventually erased from the map—covered by up to 20 feet of volcanic debris. Unlike Carthage or Babylon, which lived on in epic poetry and legend, Pompeii’s memory faded quietly. Medieval farmers tilled fields above buried homes, unaware of the secrets lying below.
It was only in 1748, while workers dug a well for King Charles III of Bourbon, that the world “rediscovered” Pompeii. They struck painted walls, tiled floors, and strange empty spaces where bodies had once been. Archaeologists soon realized these voids could be filled with plaster, creating detailed casts of people in their last moments—frozen expressions of fear, hope, or resignation. The effect is haunting. A dog, twisted and straining against its chain. A family huddled together, parents shielding their children. Even a man clutching a purse of coins—proof that, in disaster, people grab what they value most.
What makes Pompeii unique isn’t just the tragedy, but the intimacy of what survived. Unlike most ancient ruins—where stone skeletons are all that remain—Pompeii is a city where you can walk streets, read the graffiti (“Celadus the Thracian makes all the girls sigh!”), and see vivid wall paintings as bright as the day they were made. There are taverns with menus still painted on the walls, bakeries with loaves of carbonized bread, garden shrines, and elegant baths.
The rediscovery of Pompeii electrified Europe. It fed a craze for all things Roman, inspiring art, literature, and even architecture. Goethe wept in its streets; Dickens wrote about it in awe. It also changed archaeology: instead of just chasing gold and marble statues, researchers began paying attention to ordinary things—kitchens, shops, graffiti, even garbage—because, in Pompeii, everyday life became the most valuable treasure of all.
Today, Pompeii is a living laboratory. Scientists study ancient diets from food remnants, track disease in skeletons, and map ancient trade networks through inscriptions. Each year, new discoveries emerge: a child’s drawing, a perfectly preserved horse, a street vendor’s amulet. Even now, Pompeii is teaching us how people lived, loved, worshipped, and faced disaster two thousand years ago.
So, the next time you think history is all kings and battles, remember Pompeii: an ordinary city, lost and found, still whispering its secrets from beneath the ashes.
