Frederick found himself plunged into the midst of difficulties and perils which exacted to the utmost his energies both of body and of mind. Every moment was occupied in strengthening his posts, collecting magazines, recruiting his forces, and planning to circumvent the foe. From the calm of Reinsberg he found himself suddenly tossed by the surges of one of the most terrible tempests of conflict which a mortal ever encountered. Through night and storm, almost without sleep and without food, drenched and chilled, he was galloping over the hills and through the valleys, climbing the steeples, fording the streams, wading the morasses, involved in a struggle which now threatened even the crown which he had so recently placed upon his brow. Had Frederick alone suffered, but few tears of sympathy would have been shed in his behalf; but his ambition had stirred up a conflict which was soon to fill all Europe with the groans of the dying, the tears of the widow, the wailings of the orphan. Frederick deemed it of great importance to gain immediate possession of Glogau. It was bravely defended by the Austrian commander, Count Wallis, and there was hourly danger that an Austrian army might appear for its relief. Frederick, in the intensity of his anxiety, as he hurried from post to post, wrote from every stopping-place to young Leopold, whom he had left in command of the siege, urging him immediately to open the trenches, concentrate the fire of his batteries, and to carry the place by storm. “I have clear intelligence,” he wrote, “that troops are actually on the way for the rescue of Glogau.” Each note was more imperative than the succeeding one. On the 6th of March he wrote from Ohlau: “I am certainly informed that the enemy will make some attempt. I hereby, with all distinctness, command that, so soon as the petards are come, you attack Glogau. And you must make your dispositions for more than one attack, so that if one fail the other shall certainly succeed. I hope you will put off no longer. Otherwise the blame of all the mischief that might arise out of longer delay must lie on you alone.” On the 8th of March Leopold summoned all his generals at noon, and informed them that Glogau, at all hazards, must be taken that very night. The most minute directions were given to each one. There were to be three attacks--one up the river on its left bank, one down the river on its right bank, and one on the land side perpendicular to the other two. The moment the clock on the big steeple in Glogau should give the first stroke of midnight, the three columns were to start. Before the last stroke should be given they were all to be upon the silent, rapid advance.