Freedom to Pass

As you probably know, the words in our language have a tendency to change over time; in spelling, in pronunciation, or even in meaning. But there is at least one case in which the word has come to mean the exact opposite of what it once did. To make matters even more confusing, both meanings are still, to some extent, in use today.

That ambiguous word is “LET.” Of course, in ordinary usage, “let” means to allow or permit. But, if you have a British passport – as I still do, having been born in the U.K., you will see that it asks: “All those whom it may concern, To allow the bearer to pass freely without let or hindrance.” Obviously, “let” here means something different from allow. And, if you have an American passport – as I also do, having been a U.S. Citizen since 1959 – you’ll find that the wording is similar to the British, except that instead of “without let,” it has a more modern “without delay.”

But there is a least one more present-day usage, as you will know if you are in any way interested in the game of Tennis – in which a “let” serve is a ball which touches the top of the net, but still gets over it, to land in the proper space. This is a case in which both meanings of “let” seem to apply, since the ball is hindered by the net, but the rules of the game permit or allow the player to serve the ball again without penalty.

There is in Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” a much more dramatic instance of the earlier use of this word. It occurs in Act I, Scene 4. At this point, the Ghost of Hamlet’s father has appeared to others who were keeping watch at night, outside on the castle’s battlements. But Hamlet himself has not yet seen it. When he is told about it, he joins those keeping watch, and when the Ghost appears again, it wants him to follow. Hamlet is determined to do so, but his companions try to discourage and restrain him. It is at this point that Hamlet, no doubt brandishing his sword, cries:

“Still am I called – Unhand me, Gentlemen –
By Heaven, I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me!”

Of course, in modern English, there are any number of different, generally positive uses of the word “let.” In song, two of my own favorites (both of them as old as, or even older than, I am) are “Let the Rest of the World Go By,” and “Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow.”

There is also the highly ambivalent expression, as celebrated by the Beatles, of “Let It Be,” which of course can be a kind of hopeful prayer – or it can simply mean “Leave it alone – just accept things as they are.” The latter variation would seem to be in line with something called the “Let Them Theory” as propagated by a modern psychological guru named Mel Robbins. This doctrine apparently teaches a souped-up version of the very old notion of “acceptance,” which can be traced back to Buddha, and much earlier.

And there is the somewhat similar concept of “letting go,” a comforting way of dealing with all kinds of loss, including probably the hardest kind to face – the loss of life itself. This may explain why so many games involve winning and losing, and perhaps why it is never desirable to have a reputation of being a “poor loser.” Somehow this takes us back at least as far as Aesop and his fable of The Fox and the Grapes. In case you’re not familiar with it, the little moralizing story tells of a hungry Fox who sees a bunch of grapes hanging barely within his reach. He tries as hard as he can to get at this tempting morsel, but – despite every effort – he can’t quite make it, and he finally has to give up and leave the scene. Of course, he is terribly frustrated and disappointed. But, as he goes, he conjures up one comforting thought. “Oh well,” he says to himself – “They were probably sour anyway.”

This is, of course, the origin of our expression “sour grapes,” which is closely related to the idea of being a poor loser.

My own “Brilliant Thoughts” have put it this way:

“The answer to many puzzles is that they are not worth trying to solve.”

Thank you, Aesop.