Critical Hostility and Misunderstanding

If poverty attacked Monet's body, critical hostility assaulted his spirit. The reviews of early Impressionist exhibitions read like exercises in creative mockery. Critics competed to craft the cleverest insults, comparing the paintings to palette scrapings, unfinished sketches, or the work of children. Louis Leroy's famous 1874 review, which gave Impressionism its name, dripped with sarcasm: "Wallpaper in its embryonic state is more finished than this seascape."

The criticism went beyond aesthetic disagreement to personal attack. Critics questioned not just Monet's competence but his sanity and morality. Albert Wolff wrote in Le Figaro: "Try to make M. Monet understand that trees are not violet, that the sky is not the color of fresh butter... try indeed to make him understand that nowhere on earth are there human beings fashioned as he fashions them."

This critical hostility had practical consequences. Bad reviews discouraged sales and made it harder to find exhibition venues. The Salon's repeated rejections meant exclusion from the primary marketplace for art. Even when alternative exhibitions were organized, hostile criticism could turn public opinion against the work before viewers had a chance to form their own judgments.

Monet's response to criticism evolved over time. In early years, he was deeply wounded by attacks, particularly when they seemed to willfully misunderstand his intentions. Gradually, he developed a thicker skin and learned to distinguish between serious criticism that might help his development and mere mockery. By his later years, he could laugh at early reviews, recognizing them as historical curiosities that revealed more about the critics than the art.