Andrews, the Viscount of Dundee, and
myself the power to do this by a warrant sent by Mr. Brown
from Ireland."
Dundee was anxious to be gone. He saw that the game was up in the
Convention, and there were other reasons. For many days past troops of
strange, fierce-looking men, carrying arms but half-concealed beneath
their plaids, had been flocking into Edinburgh. These were the men of
the hill-sides and moorlands of the West, the wild Western Whigs, who
feared and hated the name of Claverhouse more than anything on earth.
Their leader was William Cleland, a survivor from the fields of Drumclog
and Bothwell, a brave and able young man, of good education and humane
above his fellows, but who, it was well known, was burning to have
vengeance upon Dundee. Some of these men had been heard to mutter that
the tables were turned now, and "bloodly Clavers" should play the
persecutor no more. Word was brought to Dundee that a plot was on foot
to assassinate him and Sir George Mackenzie, the most hated of all
James's lawyers. Whether the rumour were true or not, it was at least
too probable to be disregarded. Dundee laid the matter before Hamilton,
offered to produce his witnesses, and demanded that these armed
strangers be ordered to leave the town. Hamilton (who was, in fact,
responsible for their presence) answered that the Convention had more
important matters to think of, that the city could not be left
defenceless to Gordon and his rebellious garrison, and, it is said,
twitted Dundee with imaginary fears unbecoming a brave man.
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