At last even the patient, uncomplaining Japanese Christians could stand it no longer. Persecuted until desperate, those who remained finally arose in rebellion, seized and fortified the old castle of Shimabara, and resolved to die rather than submit. The rebelling party probably numbered about 30,000, and there was not one foreigner among them. A veteran army, led by skilled commanders, was sent against the rebels, {156} and after a stubborn resistance of four months the castle was taken. Men, women, and children--all were slaughtered. There is an old story to the effect that many of them were thrown from the rock of Pappenburg into the sea; but it lacks confirmation and doubtless is only a myth. It has also been charged against the Protestant Hollanders then resident in Nagasaki that they assisted in the overthrow of the Shimabara castle and the destruction of the Catholics with their heavy guns, but this probably is untrue. There was now left no power to resist, and the sword, fire, and banishment swept away every trace of Christianity. The extermination appeared so complete that non-Christian writers have pointed to Japan as a land in which Christianity had been entirely conquered by the sword, thus proving that it could be extirpated. But the extirpation was not so thorough as at first appeared. Christian converts remained, and assembled regularly for worship; but the utmost secrecy was observed, for fear of the authorities. When the country was reopened in 1859, the Catholic fathers found remaining in and around Nagasaki whole villages of Christians, holding their faith in secret, it is true, but still holding it. During the two hundred years in which they had been left alone the faith had become corrupt, but there were still thousands of people who, amid {157} much ignorance, worshiped the true God and refused to bow at pagan shrines. Christianity was not entirely crushed, neither can be, by the secular arm.