What you are saying doesn't make any sense from an historical point of view. For one thing, the date you give was not long ago at all. Surely modern-day Romans would have known from their direct ancestors from first account experiences, none of which corroborates your claims here. Furthermore, the pictographs on the walls of the homes found at Pompei were that of ancient Romans, not Romans long after the time of Leonardo da Vinci, whose garb and entire surely would have given away the fact that it took place long after. Then there is other incontrovertible physical evidence, such as radiometric dating, that makes your assertion even less believable.
There are accounts coming from Pliny the Younger, as well as other historians contemporary with him. His own father died in the eruption, either as a result of the noxious gases or the pyroclastic flow.
"My uncle was stationed at Misenum, in active command of the fleet. On 24 August, in the early afternoon, my mother drew his attention to a cloud of unusual size and appearance. He had been out in the sun, had taken a cold bath, and lunched while lying down, and was then working at his books. He called for his shoes and climbed up to a place which would give him the best view of the phenomenon. It was not clear at that distance from which mountain the cloud was rising (it was afterwards known to be Vesuvius); its general appearance can best be expressed as being like an umbrella pine, for it rose to a great height on a sort of trunk and then split off into branches, I imagine because it was thrust upwards by the first blast and then left unsupported as the pressure subsided, or else it was borne down by its own weight so that it spread out and gradually dispersed. In places it looked white, elsewhere blotched and dirty, according to the amount of soil and ashes it carried with it.
My uncle's scholarly acumen saw at once that it was important enough for a closer inspection, and he ordered a boat to be made ready, telling me I could come with him if I wished. I replied that I preferred to go on with my studies, and as it happened he had himself given me some writing to do.
As he was leaving the house he was handed a message from Rectina, wife of Tascus whose house was at the foot of the mountain, so that escape was impossible except by boat. She was terrified by the danger threatening her and implored him to rescue her from her fate. He changed his plans, and what he had begun in a spirit of inquiry he completed as a hero. He gave orders for the warships to be launched and went on board himself with the intention of bringing help to many more people besides Rectina, for this lovely stretch of coast was thickly populated.
He hurried to the place which everyone else was hastily leaving, steering his course straight for the danger zone. He was entirely fearless, describing each new movement and phase of the portent to be noted down exactly as he observed them. Ashes were already falling, hotter and thicker as the ships drew near, followed by bits of pumice and blackened stones, charred and cracked by the flames: then suddenly they were in shallow water, and the shore was blocked by the debris from the mountain.
For a moment my uncle wondered whether to turn back, but when the helmsman advised this he refused, telling him that Fortune stood by the courageous and they must make for Pomponianus at Stabiae. He was cut off there by the breadth of the bay (for the shore gradually curves round a basin filled by the sea) so that he was not as yet in danger, though it was clear that this would come nearer as it spread. Pomponianus had therefore already put his belongings on board ship, intending to escape if the contrary wind fell. This wind was of course full in my uncle's favour, and he was able to bring his ship in. He embraced his terrified friend, cheered and encouraged him, and thinking he could calm his fears by showing his own composure, gave orders that he was to be carried to the bathroom. After his bath he lay down and dined; he was quite cheerful, or at any rate he pretended he was, which was no less courageous.
Meanwhile on Mount Vesuvius broad sheets of fire and leaping flames blazed at several points, their bright glare emphasized by the darkness of night. My uncle tried to allay the fears of his companions by repeatedly declaring that these were nothing but bonfires left by the peasants in their terror, or else empty houses on fire in the districts they had abandoned. Then he went to rest and certainly slept, for as he was a stout man his breathing was rather loud and heavy and could be heard by people coming and going outside his door. By this time the courtyard giving access to his room was full of ashes mixed with pumice stones, so that its level had risen, and if he had stayed in the room any longer he would never have got out. He was wakened, came out and joined Pomponianus and the rest of the household who had sat up all night.
They debated whether to stay indoors or take their chance in the open, for the buildings were now shaking with violent shocks, and seemed to be swaying to and fro as if they were torn from their foundations. Outside, on the other hand, there was the danger of failing pumice stones, even though these were light and porous; however, after comparing the risks they chose the latter. In my uncle's case one reason outweighed the other, but for the others it was a choice of fears. As a protection against falling objects they put pillows on their heads tied down with cloths.
Elsewhere there was daylight by this time, but they were still in darkness, blacker and denser than any ordinary night, which they relieved by lighting torches and various kinds of lamp. My uncle decided to go down to the shore and investigate on the spot the possibility of any escape by sea, but he found the waves still wild and dangerous. A sheet was spread on the ground for him to lie down, and he repeatedly asked for cold water to drink.
Then the flames and smell of sulphur which gave warning of the approaching fire drove the others to take flight and roused him to stand up. He stood leaning on two slaves and then suddenly collapsed, I imagine because the dense, fumes choked his breathing by blocking his windpipe which was constitutionally weak and narrow and often inflamed. When daylight returned on the 26th - two days after the last day he had been seen - his body was found intact and uninjured, still fully clothed and looking more like sleep than death.
Ashes were already falling, not as yet very thickly. I looked round: a dense black cloud was coming up behind us, spreading over the earth like a flood.'Let us leave the road while we can still see,'I said,'or we shall be knocked down and trampled underfoot in the dark by the crowd behind.'We had scarcely sat down to rest when darkness fell, not the dark of a moonless or cloudy night, but as if the lamp had been put out in a closed room.
You could hear the shrieks of women, the wailing of infants, and the shouting of men; some were calling their parents, others their children or their wives, trying to recognize them by their voices. People bewailed their own fate or that of their relatives, and there were some who prayed for death in their terror of dying. Many besought the aid of the gods, but still more imagined there were no gods left, and that the universe was plunged into eternal darkness for evermore.
There were people, too, who added to the real perils by inventing fictitious dangers: some reported that part of Misenum had collapsed or another part was on fire, and though their tales were false they found others to believe them. A gleam of light returned, but we took this to be a warning of the approaching flames rather than daylight. However, the flames remained some distance off; then darkness came on once more and ashes began to fall again, this time in heavy showers. We rose from time to time and shook them off, otherwise we should have been buried and crushed beneath their weight. I could boast that not a groan or cry of fear escaped me in these perils, but I admit that I derived some poor consolation in my mortal lot from the belief that the whole world was dying with me and I with it."
The controversy about the precise date of the destruction of Pompeii was settled on October 11th, 1889.
You assert that Pompei was destroyed in 1631. Somehow it was magically forgotten about until it was rediscovered in 1748, a whole 117 years later. In the grand scheme of time, that is a blip on the radar screen. That makes no sense, whatsoever, nor does it lend any credence to the fact that the physical evidence does not correspond to a 1631 date. It may not have been destroyed in exactly 79 AD. But the disparity between the year 79 and 1631 is quite unbelievable.
You really believe that there are any sources confirming destruction of Pompey in 1631.
Is there any legitimate reason, whatsoever, to think that Pliny the Younger or Tacitus were somehow lying? Because they did write about it. And if they did write about it, but lied, what did it serve? Why would some hoax be perpetrated? What would be gained by doing so?
Secondly, look at the garb worn by the people entombed in the calcified ash. They are wearing 1st century Roman clothing, which looks nothing like what was worn in the 1600's. The pictographs on the wall represent 1st century Roman clothing as well, not knights in chainmail armor, or Renaissance era attire. The radiometric dating of the materials found indicate 1st century time frame.
The better question to you, is: Do you really believe that 117 years after this epic disaster, people somehow forgot about it, and then rediscovered it? The date you give is almost 100 years after Da Vinci and Michaelangelo! Yet no one from history even eludes to the date you give.
This is fantasy. The eruption of Pompeii may not have been exactly 79 AD. But there is no way any credible historian would honestly believe that it took place in 1631 AD.
Amazing, the city of Houston must be such a real hotbed of fakery that it must take thousands of people to create this matrix-like artificial reality. And what is even more amazing (considering how military secrets leak out so soon) is that of everyone in on the conspiracy, not one has gone to the press, or even the tabloids or Fox News, with the 'real truth.'
Yeah, that's pretty much how they work. :)
There must be something very alluring to conspiracy theorists that they insist on having the skinny on "secret" information. Meanwhile we're all just dumb and unsuspecting sheep bleating away, while the hidden truth is beyond our grasp or comprehension.