San Clemente is three buildings stacked on one another, and a staircase runs down through all of them. The church at street level went up around 1100, and its apse carries a gold mosaic in which the cross grows into a vine that spreads across the whole half-dome. Beneath it stands the church it replaced, a fourth-century basilica whose plastered walls still hold painted scenes. One flight lower is a first-century lane, with a warehouse on one side and a private house on the other, and inside that house a long hall where men ate together in honour of the god Mithras.
Rome's ground level kept rising, so the old church was packed with rubble and a new one raised on top of it. It stayed shut away until 1857, when the Irish Dominican prior Joseph Mullooly began digging because he kept hearing water under his room. He was right. A spring floods the lowest level, and a drainage tunnel cut toward the Colosseum in 1912 still carries it off, loud enough to hear in the dark. The upper church is a working Dominican parish, and the only way down is a narrow stone stair.