OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/gegen

| Expand abbreviations An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/Annotated/gegen | Random word Special:RandomInCategory/Kluge's Etymological Dictionary of the German Language |
​ gegen, prep., ‘against, opposite to, in presence of, in comparison with,’ from MidHG. gęgen, OHG. gęgin, gagan, ‘against’ (in OHG. and MidHG. almost always with a dat.); allied to the MidHG. adv. gęgene, OHG. gęgini, gagani, ‘towards’; corresponding to AS. geán, ongeán, ‘against,’ E. again; OSax. gęgin and OIc. gagn, ‘against,’ appear only in compounds; in Goth. a corresponding word is wanting. Of obscure origin. —
# An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/gehaben

| Expand abbreviations An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/Annotated/gehaben | Random word Special:RandomInCategory/Kluge's Etymological Dictionary of the German Language |
​ gehaben, vb. in sich gehaben, ‘to fare, be (in health), behave,’ from MidHG. sich gehaben, OG. sih gihabên, ‘to hold, be (in health)’; allied to haben.
# An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/ge-

| Expand abbreviations An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/Annotated/ge- | Random word Special:RandomInCategory/Kluge's Etymological Dictionary of the German Language |
​ ge-, a proclitic prefix, from MidHG. ge-, OHG. gi, ga- (an accented prefix ga- in noun compounds is very rare in OHG. and MidHG.); the prim. idea is ‘collectivity, completeness’; comp. Goth. ga-, AS. ge- (in E. i only in handiwork, handicraft, AS. hondgeweorc, hondgecrœft; comp. also E. enough, from AS. genôh, under genug). The prefix is probably allied to Lat. con-; cum; comp. gehen, glauben, gleich, Glied, &c.
# An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/gediegen

| Expand abbreviations An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/Annotated/gediegen | Random word Special:RandomInCategory/Kluge's Etymological Dictionary of the German Language |
​ gediegen, adj., ‘solid, pure, concise, pithy,’ from MidHG. gedigen, adj., ‘adult, firm, hard, clear, pure,’ OHG. gidigan, adj., ‘aged, advanced in years, earnest, pure, chaste’; prop. a partic. of gidihan (g by a grammatical change is the necessary form of h in the partic.); AS. preserves the older participial form of the e-gradation, geþungen, ‘complete,’ so too OSax. thungan.
# An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/gedunsen

| Expand abbreviations An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/Annotated/gedunsen | Random word Special:RandomInCategory/Kluge's Etymological Dictionary of the German Language |
​ gedunsen, adj., ‘bloated, puffed up,’ partic. of a lost str. vb. which is retained in ModHG. dialects (Hess. dinsen, ‘to draw ‘); comp. MidHG. dinsen, ‘to draw, tear, extend,’ OHG. dinsan; also Goth. *þinsan, atþinsan, ‘to draw.’ The Teut. root þens, pre-Teut. tens, corresponds to the Sans. root tans, ‘to draw,’ Lith. tęsti, ‘to draw, stretch.’ The root tens seems an extension of the root ten appearing in dehnen.
# An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/geflissen

| Expand abbreviations An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/Annotated/geflissen | Random word Special:RandomInCategory/Kluge's Etymological Dictionary of the German Language |
​ geflissen, partic. of a lost vb. fleißen, ‘assiduous, busy,’ See Fleiß.
# An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/gebären

| Expand abbreviations An Etymological Dictionary of the German Language/Annotated/gebären | Random word Special:RandomInCategory/Kluge's Etymological Dictionary of the German Language |
​ gebären, vb., from the equiv. MidHG. gëbern, OHG. gibëran, vb., ‘to give birth to’; corresponding to Goth. gubaíran (also baíran), ‘to give birth to, produce,’ AS. gebëran, bëran, str. vb., ‘to give birth to,’ E. to bear; in Scand. the compounds with ga- are wanting, the simple vb. bera, ‘to give birth to’ being used. See Bahre; where proofs are given of the antiquity of the verbal stem ber, pre-Teut. bher, within the Aryan group; in Ind. the root bhṛ, bhar, may mean ‘to bear offspring’ as well as ‘to bear’ generally; comp. Lat. fertilis, from Lat. fero; in OIr. the substantives combairt and brith, corresponding to Geburt, ‘birth,’ manifest the same specialisation. See Geburt.
# Arminell, a social romance/front matter

BY THE SAME AUTHOR
In the Roar of the Sea The Queen of Love Cheap Jack Zita Mrs. Curgenven of Curgenven Arminell Jacquetta Urith Kitty Alone Margery of Quether Noémi The Broom-Squire Dartmoor Idylls Guavas the Tinner
# Astounding Science Fiction/Volume 44/Number 05/In Times to Come

From Astounding Science Fiction, vol. 44, no. 5 (January 1950)
IN TIMES TO COME
In Times To Come doesn't ordinarily refer back to previous issues, but since some readers didn't spot the little game we were playing with the November 1949 issue, I will make the exception, and point out the letter of Richard Hoen, in our November, 1948 issue. That November issue took a high degree of co-operation from the authors; it isn't easy to write a yarn to a title specification, and I want to thank them for a fine job well done.
With which we jump four months forward to the February 1950 issue, with a brief pause to note en passant that this January issue marks Astounding's twentieth birthday. (Next year we come of age!) But we're starting a new serial in February, "To The Stars," by L. Ron Hubbard. It's a two-parter, and a beautiful development of the theme based on the time-rate differential of ships traveling near the speed of light. Of a man shanghaied aboard a ship half a millennium old, for a trip that leads not only to the stars, but across millennia of time. In Space, the ships can move out and back, but it's a one-way road in Time, when you make The Long Trip, and the crews of the ships are strange gatherings of men from across the ages!
H. Beam Piper is back, too, with an interesting idea. Once, when the winning of wars depended on swordsmen, archers, and cavalry, there were mercenary companies, that sold their training to the highest bidder. Today, more and more, wars are won or lost by science—and a scientific team. The story is titled "The Mercenaries". Provisionally scheduled for February—possibly crowded over to March—are stories by Van Vogt, Kuttner, Foul Anderson, H. B. Fyfe, and a returning old-timer, Cleve Cartmill.The Editor.
# Astounding Science Fiction/Volume 44/Number 05/Book Review

From Astounding Science Fiction/Volume 44/Number 05, vol. 44, no. 5 (January 1950)
BOOK REVIEW
"The Ship Of Ishtar," by A. Merritt; Memorial Edition, Borden Publishing Co., $3.50.
This book is a beauty. The publisher is to be congratulated on a top-flight production job, worthy of the subject. Ace jacket designer Edgard Cirlin has done a honey of a dust-wrapper, which features a bylined biography of Merritt by Forrest J. Ackerman on the back. This is the sixth printing of "Ishtar" since its original appearance a quarter of a century ago, and, in its definitive edition, probably the final printing—at least for a long time to come. Not since its first serialization in 1924 has the complete version been offered, and, strangely enough, as it now stands the text of the Memorial Edition is even more satisfactory, certain small errors having been eliminated. The meticulous proofreading job was intrusted to G. Gordon Dewey, compiler of "The Merritt Biblion" and himself so fond of "The Ship of Ishtar" that he named his first-born daughter after the heroine, Sharane. Dewey caught and corrected a couple of chronological mistakes, among others.
Artist Virgil Finlay, however, failed on the critical interior illustration, picturing the Ship, to show the proper number—seven—of oars. All previous artists had oar trouble, and the jinx still has not been broken. However, Finlay's five brand new pen-and-ink pictures are so superlative in conception and execution that his "oarful" mistake can be more readily overlooked than the pun of the same name.
An acknowledged "classic", the plot of this novel is too familiar to bear repeating. A modern man is transported back sixty centuries to high adventure and high stakes on high seas in a fantasy of unparalleled beauty and power.
Alden Lorraine
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 4

4.—GLIMPSES OF CHERUBINI.
Cherubini was a gruff old fellow, but occasionally a bit of kindness or humor came to the surface, and then he showed the better side of his nature. He was one day met, at the Paris Conservatoire, of which he was the head, by a father who came bringing his talented son to gain admission to the institution. Cherubini exclaimed, when the man had told his errand, "What do you want? I do not take infants to nurse!"
The father was about to give up his attempt, but was told to take the boy to a certain room and have him play whatever he could think of, and not to stop when Cherubini came into the room. Soon the Director came in. Hearing the boy play, he was astonished at the talent and youth of the performer, and proceeded to question him on the principles of music. The result was that he at once admitted the boy to the Conservatoire. Cherubini afterward, in telling others about the affair, said, "I had to be very careful about pushing the questions too far; for ​the baby was beginning to prove to me that he knew more about music than I do myself."
When Berlioz was a student in the Conservatoire, he was generally at sword's points with the crusty director. Once, on examination day, Cherubini was running over a piece which Berlioz had submitted, when he came upon a complete rest of two measures.
"What is that?" he asked, in his usual ill-natured tone.
"Mr. Director," said the pupil, "I wish to produce an effect which I thought could best be produced by silence."
"Ah, you thought it would produce a good effect upon the audience if you suppressed two measures?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. Suppress the rest; the effect will be better still!"
As an instance of Cherubini's curt wit, the following little conversation is cited:—
One day a friend handed a score to Cherubini, saying it was by Mehul. After looking it over he exclaimed:—
"It is not Mehul's; it is too bad to be his."
"Then will you believe me if I tell you it is mine?" said the visitor, and Cherubini replied:—
"No! It is too good to be yours."
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 41

41.—SLIPPERS AT A PREMIUM.
No more excellent or generous lady has ever graced the operatic stage than Madame Malibran. Pure in life, beautiful in character, generous in heart, she made friends of all who knew her.
When she arrived in Venice on one of her continental tours, Malibran found the manager of a theater which had just been built, to be on the verge of bankruptcy. The great expense of completing his building had brought him to this point, but he had hoped to have the edifice graced by the presence of the King on the opening night, and that would secure him a large attendance and an overflowing treasury. But, unfortunately, the King died. The manager was in despair.
Hearing of Malibran's arrival he besought her to sing on the opening night and save him from ruin. She consented; but owing to his financial difficulties she declined the sum which he offered for her services.
The manager was not mistaken in the drawing power of the artiste; when it became known that Malibran was to sing in "Somnambula," every seat was taken.
In the course of the opera, Malibran slipped on a leaf from a bouquet that had been thrown her and but for one of the singers would have fallen into the orchestra. That singer was Balfe, who afterward became famous as a composer. As it happened, in the effort to recover her balance, one of Malibran's slippers came off and dropped from the stage into what was then called the "pit." The occupants of that part of the house at once entered on a struggle for the possession of this prized relic. Malibran was much amused at their efforts and, taking off ​the other slipper, threw it to those in the rear of the house. Both slippers were finally torn in pieces and the fragments carried away by the enthusiastic Italians as mementos of the occasion.
At the close of this incident Malibran was led forward by the happy manager; he explained the circumstances of her appearance at his theater and added that, in view of her saving his credit, he should name his theater after the generous prima donna. And to-day the "Teatro Malibran" stands as a monument to her kindness of heart.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 43

43.—MUSIC AND MADNESS.
There are many stories told of the benefits of music in cases of sickness and insanity, and some of them tax heavily our credulity. Here is one that may be taken for what it is worth.
A friend of Madame Camporese, when that lady was once singing in Milan, told her there was a man in the hospital that was a musical fanatic, and had gone mad from the failure of one of his operas. Hearing of her arrival he demanded to see her, and this being denied, he became so furious that they had to fasten him to his bed.
When this was told her, although she was preparing for an evening party, she at once gave that up and went to the hospital. In an adjoining room to the maniac she sang a melody of Haydn's. He soon became quiet and finally burst into tears. She then went to his bedside and sang again. After she had finished the song the now quieted man pulled from underneath his pillow a melody he had composed, and asked her to sing it for him. She did so, and at his request repeated it. When she left the building the poor musician was gentle and docile, all produced by the kindness of heart of the good Camporese.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 44

44.—BATON WAVING.—LULLY LOSING A LIMB.
Did you ever notice the peculiarities shown by different chorus and orchestra leaders in the way they handle the baton? The direction of the motion made by the ​leader is supposed to indicate to his singers or players the part of the measure then in progress, and the amplitude, extent or vigor of the motion may give some idea as to the quantity of tone desired. It is, in many cases, past comprehension how the singer is to perceive the leader's intention, owing to carelessness on his part or to mannerisms which obscure his meaning.
One conductor describes a circle through the air and expects his choristers to sing in correct common time; another has a beat that transforms everything into down-up-down-up, until one wonders why an automatic pump-handle couldn't fill his place. One leader will be cool and collected; and another will fly all to pieces, keeping one on the verge of expectancy, as one is when awaiting an explosion of some piece of fireworks.
We may see one conductor flapping his hands at his singers to indicate something (the singers are supposed to know what, but the audience do not), while another meekly raises his hands as if to give his benediction to all before him. One will hold his baton as gingerly between thumb and first finger as though it were made of straw; another will let it rest against the side of his hand as though it were a pen with which he was inscribing on the vibrating air his ideas as to the effect he would make on the ears of his auditors; still another will grasp his stick firmly and securely, as though he were master of his forces and knew it.
In too many cases the motions of the conductor cease to have any particular meaning and become, as Mark Twain says, mere "ornamental beckoning." We have seen conductors hit themselves on the head in their frantic efforts to "mark time," but such a mishap is small compared with that which befell a celebrated French composer.
Lully, in conducting a Te Deum before Louis XIV, in celebration of that monarch's recovery from a severe illness, found that his orchestra was getting a little uncertain as to the time; he became excited, and in making ​large motions with his baton accidentally struck his foot, producing a slight blister. It must be remembered that the baton of that day was a violin bow, considerably heavier than the bow of the present century. Inflammation set in, and on the advice of his physicians he had a toe taken off. Still later it became necessary to remove the foot and, finally, the whole limb.
The moral is obvious. Let conductors beware!
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 38

38.—MUSICAL CRITICISM.
If variety of expression and a frequent change of complimentary phrase was necessary to the average reporter of musical affairs in the columns of the daily press, we fear many a quill-shover would be incapacitated for further duty in this line. Outside of the large city papers the reporter of musical affairs is not required to have a knowledge of music, and his weekly repetitions of stock phrases amounts to "Miss A. played beautifully," "Miss B. sang in a very sweet way," "Mrs. C. shows the result of careful practice," "Mr. D. sang in his customary pleasing manner," "Miss E.'s performance was very nice," et cætera ad nauseam.
We know of one fellow who gets around it all by saying, "Miss F.'s playing was a good example of her teacher's method," and afterward explains to his friends that the said teacher's method was abominable.
Musical criticism is not so flowery in the present day as it was formerly. Just read this sample, æt. two hundred years. It was written by Pepys, that old gossip who persisted in writing a diary which people since have persisted in publishing. It was concerning a performance of a tragedy in which music was used. He writes: "But that which did please me beyond anything in the whole world, was the wind-musique when the angel comes down; which is so sweet that it ravished me, and indeed, in a word, did wrap up my soul so that it made me really sick, just as I had formerly been when in love with my wife; that neither then, nor all the evening going home, and at home, I was able to think of anything, but remained all night transported, so as I could not believe that ever any music hath that real command over the soul of a man as it did upon me; and makes me resolve to practice wind-musique, and to make my wife do the like."
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 40

40.—A BOY'S MEMORY.
Part of the service used in the Pope's chapel at Rome is sacredly guarded and kept with great care in the archives of the chapel. Any singer found tampering with this Miserere of Allegri, or giving a note of it to an outsider, would be visited by excommunication. Only three copies of this service have ever been sent out. One was for the Emperor Leopold, another to the King of Portugal, and the third to the celebrated musician, Padre Martini.
But there was one copy that was made without the Pope's orders, and not by a member of the choir either. When Mozart was taken to Rome in his youth, by his father, he went to the service at St. Peter's and heard the service in all its impressiveness. Mozart, senior, could hardly arouse the lad from his fascination with the music, when the time came to leave the cathedral. That ​night after they had retired and the father slept, the boy stealthily arose and by the bright light of the Italian moon, wrote out the whole of that sacredly guarded "Miserere." The Pope's locks, bars, and excommunications gave no safety against a memory like Mozart's.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 42

42.—ARTISTIC AVERSION TO EMPTY HONORS.
Many of the great musicians as well as great litterateurs and scientists have scorned the honors and decorations of courts and kings. As a general thing, an institution that honors a really great man with a degree, honors itself more than it does the man. This was the case when Oxford University granted Haydn the title of Doctor of Music. We might imagine how Beethoven would have received the proffer of such a title. His spirit of contempt for orders and decorations was well shown when the Prussian Ambassador at Vienna gave him his choice between fifty ducats, or to be decorated with the insignia of a certain high order. The answer was what we might expect from Beethoven, viz.: "Give me the ducats." Not every one would choose ducats in preference to decorations.
Rameau, one of the great French composers, was equally careless as to honorary distinction. Louis XV bestowed on him the order of St. Michael. Learning that Rameau had not registered it with the proper official, and supposing it was because of his inability to defray the necessary expenses, the King offered to pay the charges.
"I thank your Majesty," Rameau responded, "but let me have the money; I can find a much better use for it."
​Mozart was another who would have chosen money rather than orders, rings, and gold snuff-boxes, had he been given a choice. He was overwhelmed with such things, but had hardly enough income to support his family in proper comfort. But those days are past; the artist and composer now receives more money and less snuff-box.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 45

45.—PRIMA DONNAS COME HIGH.
Gabriella was a singer who, like Jenny Lind, could be generosity personified when occasion offered; nevertheless she appreciated her own worth as an artiste, and on occasion could demand what she considered her value. At one time she was summoned by the Empress Catherine the Second, of Russia, to sing before her Majesty. Shortly after her arrival at St. Petersburg, Gabriella was asked by the Empress her terms for amusing her royal audience. It seems that no amount had previously been stipulated. She determined that a royal patron should pay a royal price and answered: "Five thousand ducats."
"Five thousand ducats!" exclaimed the queen. "Why, not one of my field-marshals is paid so much!"
"Then your Majesty had better get one of your field-marshals to sing," answered the quick-witted diva.
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 46

46.—AN UNORTHODOX CREED.
It is frequently the case in church music that some serious or sacred words are used as a mere peg on which to hang a display of musical ability. In some cases the value of the musical composition causes us to forget the absurdity of the continued repetition of the same word or words. This is the case in the "Amen" chorus in the "Messiah." Händel has here given a fine contrapuntal display on the word "Amen," and evolved a long fugal chorus.
​In other cases where the musical talent is not so great, continual repetition can hardly be forgiven.
It frequently occurs in the Latin service that parts of sentences must be repeated; and in order that the sense may be preserved the composer must have a good knowledge of the Latin. Otherwise he is liable to make some such blunder as did Porpora, Haydn's teacher, who once, in setting the Latin creed to music, arranged his words thus: "Credo, non credo, non credo in Deum." The church authorities were scandalized by such a sentiment expressed in a church service, and it was only by his explaining that he was ignorant of the Latin and did not mean to say he did not trust in God, that he saved himself from the terrors of the inquisition.
He was not the only composer that has set unorthodox words to his music. Many lesser lights in our own days are grinding out church music that is said to "combine poor poetry, bad music, and worse theology."
# Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 39

39.—HIGH ART.
Even theatrical people, accustomed, as they are, to good acting and to artificial feeling well expressed, are sometimes moved by the force or feeling which an actor or singer brings to his part. Perhaps as prominent an instance of this as can be found was in the singing of Pacchierotti, a vocalist of the last century.
When singing at Rome in a certain opera, he sang with so much beauty of tone and true feeling that, at a certain place where a solo passage was followed by a short orchestral symphony, the orchestra was so moved by his singing as to forget to go on with their playing. Pacchierotti turned to the conductor, saying, "What are you about?"
The leader started as if from a dream, and could only say, "Pray forgive me." The whole orchestra were sitting with tears in their eyes, oblivious of their duties.