Great excitement followed; an indignation meeting was called in the Park, coroners' juries stultified themselves, and a senseless outcry was made generally. Twenty-two were killed and thirty wounded. It was a terrible sacrifice to make for a paltry quarrel between two actors about whom nobody cared; and in this light alone many viewed it, forgetting that when the public peace is broken, it matters not how great or insignificant the cause, it must be preserved; and if the police or military are called out to do it, and are attacked, they must defend themselves, and uphold the laws, or be false to their trust. The authorities have to do with riots, not their causes; put them down, not deprecate their existence, or argue their justice. If public indignation had been turned against Forrest, it would have been more sensible. He knew perfectly well that if his friends persisted in their determination to attack Macready, the second night, blood would be spilt. It was _his_ quarrel, and yet he deliberately kept his lips closed. He neither begged them for their own sake, nor for his, or as good citizens, to forbear, and let his rival alone; nor after it was known that many had been killed, did he express a single word of regret; apparently having no feeling but gratification, that even at such a fearful sacrifice his hated rival had been driven from the field. But responsibility is not so easily shaken off, and in real life as well as in tragedy, conscience will force a man to cry: "Out! damned blood spot! Out, I say!" Macready left the country, and the excitement died away; but the painful memories of this absurd yet deadly riot will remain till the present generation has passed from the stage.