But the worst part of the fight, for me, was to come.  Prosecution of the “Law of Population” was threatened, but never commenced; a worse weapon against me was in store.  An attempt had been made in August, 1875, to deprive me of the custody of my little girl by hiding her away when she went on her annual visit of one month to her father, but I had promptly recovered her by threatening to issue a writ of habeas corpus. Now it was felt that the Knowlton trial might be added to the charges of blasphemy that could be urged against me, and that this double-barrelled gun might be discharged with effect.  I received notice in January, 1878, that an application was to be made to the High Court of Chancery to deprive me of the child, but the petition was not filed till the following April.  Mabel was dangerously ill with scarlet fever at the time, and though this fact was communicated to her father I received a copy of the petition while sitting at her bedside.  The petition alleged that, “The said Annie Besant is, by addresses, lectures, and writings, endeavouring to propagate the principles of Atheism, and has published a book entitled ’The Gospel of Atheism.’  She has also associated herself with an infidel lecturer and author named Charles Bradlaugh in giving lectures and in publishing books and pamphlets, whereby the truth of the Christian religion is impeached, and disbelief in all religion inculcated.”

It further alleged against me the publication of the Knowlton pamphlet, and the writing of the “Law of Population.”  Unhappily, the petition came for hearing before the then Master of the Rolls, Sir George Jessel, a man animated by the old spirit of Hebrew bigotry, to which he had added the time-serving morality of a “man of the world,” sceptical as to all sincerity, and contemptuous of all devotion to an unpopular cause.  The treatment I received at his hands on my first appearance in court told me what I had to expect.  I had already had some experience of English judges, the stately kindness and gentleness of the Lord Chief Justice, the perfect impartiality and dignified courtesy of the Lords Justices of Appeal.  My astonishment, then, can be imagined when, in answer to a statement by Mr. Ince, Q.C., that I appeared in person, I heard a harsh, loud voice exclaim: 

“Appear in person?  A lady appear in person?  Never heard of such a thing!  Does the lady really appear in person?”

As the London papers had been full of my appearing in person in the other courts and had contained the high compliments of the Lord Chief Justice on my conduct of my own case, Sir George Jessel’s pretended astonishment seemed a little overdone.  After a variety of similar remarks delivered in the most grating tones and in the roughest manner, Sir George Jessel tried to obtain his object by browbeating me directly.  “Is this the lady?”

“I am the respondent, my lord, Mrs. Besant.”

“Then I advise you, Mrs. Besant, to employ counsel to represent you, if you can afford it; and I suppose you can.”