THE law is a dull but necessary presence in the tangled mass of humanity which goes to make up what might in a generous flight of fancy be called this democratic country of ours. Prof W.N. Osborough, an academic lawyer at UCD, has written a book, Law And The Emergence of Modern Dublin, which maps, with a splendid emphasis on social history, some of preoccupations of Dublin citizenry over the last couple of certain neighbours quarrel, elected representatives sail close to the wind, water pipes are fought over, parcels of land are sold off, literary works are plagiarised, rivers are diverted, money changes hands and life's rich tapestry is worked into a background of jungle ethics or would be were it not for the gracious intervention, every now and then, of that icon of civilisation the court of law.

This examination of sewerage schemes, rights of way, encroachments and ancient lights is a hymn to the people's history of Dublin. By studying law reports and judgments handed down and placing them in the social setting of the time, W.N. Osborough "Only his close friends call him by his first name," said his publisher, reverently has brought to life an aspect of Dublin's history hitherto unexplored.

In 1897, a dispute developed over the supply of water to the South Dublin Union Workhouse. The argument centred on the definition of a workhouse was it a house like any other or could the Corpo charge it more because of the size of its demand? The courts ruled that it was simply a household despite the fact and this is the revealing bit that at the time, it had 3,300 residents! And oh, the romance of water pipes in medieval times, in order to ensure that Dubliners did not draw off more water than they were entitled to, it was laid down that a pipe should be "no thicker than a goose quill".

Water had its role to play, too, in recreation. When the railway line to Kingstown was being constructed, there was an outcry from the women who let out the bathing huts on the strand because the resulting mud thrown up had had an adverse effect on business.

And in Bray, in the 1860s, during an appeal relating to the proposed demolition of the ladies' baths close to the prom, the Lord Justice pointed out that to pull down the baths might not be a good thing since "pedestrians were formerly inconvenienced by ladies bathing over every part of the beach whereas the bathers will now be concentrated within one short space..."

And there were victories too for the middle man. When James, Earl of Charlemont, discovering the joys of sea bathing, restricted access to his Marino Estate in Clontarf, a local developer built a row of six storey buildings smack in front of the same estate thus effectively restricting the noble lord's view of the sea. It was a Pyrrhic victory for the builder, however, for Fairview Crescent (aka Spite Terrace) had neither a water supply nor gardens.

In his office in Roebuck Castle, on the UCD Belfield Campus, W.N. Osborough Nial to his close friends reveals himself to be something of a Renaissance Man for his all embracing overview of matters legal is free of the tunnel vision which restricts many of his practising brothers in law.

In what other index, apart from that of a law book, for instance, might you find Napper Tandy followed by Sam Wanamaker? Or Daniel O'Connell sharing space with nude bathing? And where else might you come across, other than in a law document, the word gravamen? For this book, a glorious celebration of that rare breed of Everyman the law abiding citizen makes no concessions to the non lawyer.

W.N. Osborough explains why he wrote it "I wanted to show how judges performed, to look at their reasoning and to examine the consequences of their judgments". He is full of praise for all the librarians who diligently answered his precise, if obscure, queries and throws a leg over the arm of his chair when warming to his pet subject the use of English.

He is an admirer of those judges who not only have a good handle on the English language but who can embellish it as well. Lord Denning is one but there aren't many here in Ireland, it seems, because "we tend towards doctrinal rectitude".

What he calls the helter skelter of litigation is another pet subject. "It's partly because people in Ireland like to take a gamble," he says, though it's nowhere as bad here as it is in the States".