But the financial position of the whole group was exceedingly precarious. They could not sell their pictures. It was admitted that the canvases of such men as Monet and Pissarro were the works of men of genius, but the buying public (and they are numerous in France) did not understand the new movement, and so failed to support it adequately. As a whole, it may be said that the art public were in open hostility to Impressionism. With a few exceptions, the critics of the established art journals condemned the movement. Even comic singers ridiculed the painters in the music-halls of Paris. The Salon was closed against them, and the dealers refused to look at their canvases. Meanwhile the artists starved. These were the evil days of evictions, of visits from the sheriff, of the forced sale of household furniture to pay insignificant debts. It is a sordid story of a struggle to obtain the barest necessities of existence. These wretched years proved a bitter chastening of the spirit to proud and refined natures. Tragedy and comedy were intermixed. Glimpses of hope and comfort appeared from time to time as some fresh buyer appeared on the scene. But these welcome callers were not frequent, and the rifts of sunshine through the grey clouds were, as a rule, transitory. The artists did not over-value their works. They were able to live in tranquillity if their pictures fetched prices ranging from £2 to £4. To sell a canvas at £8 was an event, and £20 was a figure absolutely unheard of. A letter from Manet, a comparatively rich man with an independent income, to Théodore Duret, the critic, gives a vivid insight into the situation in 1875. Manet had recently visited Claude Monet at Argenteuil. “Dear Duret,” he writes, “I went to see Monet yesterday. I found him altogether ‘hard up.’ He asked me if I knew of a purchaser for ten or twenty of his pictures at £4 each. Shall we take it on? I thought of a dealer, or of an amateur, but there I foresee the possibility of refusals. It is unfortunate that it is only connoisseurs, like ourselves, who can at the same time—in spite of all the repugnance we may feel over it—make an excellent bargain and help a man of such talent. Answer as quickly as possible or make an appointment with me. Amitiés, Edouard Manet.” This is good proof, if proof were needed, of the straits to which one of the leaders of the group was reduced. It is also odd to note that Manet was afraid of a refusal, from both dealers and collectors, to the offer of such a bargain as a score of works by Claude Monet at £4 apiece. The letter also proves that those professional dealers who had hitherto supported the Impressionists were at the end of their resources, notably M. Durand-Ruel.