If we only wanted to be happy, it would be easy

Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu, a French philosopher and satirist, left an indelible mark on the Enlightenment era. Born on January 18, 1689, at Château La Brède near Bordeaux, France, Montesquieu hailed from a noble family. His father, Jacques de Secondat, belonged to an old military lineage that had been ennobled in the 16th century. His mother, Marie-Françoise de Pesnel, added to the family’s wealth through valuable wine-producing property in La Brède. When she passed away in 1696, the barony of La Brède fell to Charles-Louis, then a seven-year-old child.

Educated both at home and in the village, Montesquieu later attended the Collège de Juilly, close to Paris. This school, frequented by prominent Bordeaux families, provided him with a sound education rooted in enlightened and modern principles. After graduating from the faculty of law at the University of Bordeaux, he became an advocate in 1708. His practical experience in law led him to Paris, but he returned to Bordeaux upon his father’s death in 1713. There, he married Jeanne de Lartigue, a wealthy Protestant, and together they had two daughters and a son.

Montesquieu’s quote, “If we only wanted to be happy, it would be easy; but we want to be happier than other people, and that is almost always difficult, since we think them happier than they are,” resonates across centuries. In these words, he captures the human condition—a perpetual quest for happiness, often complicated by our tendency to compare ourselves to others.

Consider the paradox: happiness seems straightforward—achieved by fulfilling basic needs, finding joy in simple pleasures, and cultivating contentment. Yet, we yearn for more. We glance at our neighbors, friends, and strangers, imagining their lives as happier, more fulfilled. We perceive their laughter as more genuine, their successes as grander, their relationships as more harmonious.

Montesquieu reminds us that this comparison game is fraught with difficulty. Our perception of others’ happiness is often skewed. Behind their smiles lie hidden struggles, unmet desires, and moments of vulnerability. The grass may appear greener on their side, but we rarely see the weeds they battle.

So, perhaps true contentment lies not in outpacing others but in embracing our own journey. Let us seek happiness without the burden of comparison. Let us recognize that our present joys were once mere hopes. By appreciating what we have, we honor the dreams we once held. Montesquieu invites us to find solace in our unique paths, knowing that everyone carries their hidden burdens. In this understanding, we may discover a deeper, more enduring happiness—one that transcends comparison and celebrates the ordinary moments of our lives.