First Lady Edith Roosevelt’s official portrait, painted in 1902 by Théobald Chartran, was a resounding triumph. Chartran masterfully captured her regal yet gentle demeanor as she sat gracefully in the White House gardens. The portrait, showcasing her in a long white dress and elegant black coat, was met with public acclaim in both France and the United States. Its success led to Chartran being invited back the following year to paint President Theodore Roosevelt himself. Little did Roosevelt know, one of these portraits would be jokingly nicknamed “the Mewing Cat” by his own family, and ultimately despised by the president himself.
Theobald Chartran’s elegant portrayal of First Lady Edith Roosevelt in her official portrait, painted in 1902, set a high bar for his subsequent task of painting the President. (Image Source: Wikimedia Commons)
Chartran returned to Washington in January 1903, ready to capture the complex personality of Theodore Roosevelt. Roosevelt was known to be a man of contrasts – charming and enthusiastic, yet also powerful and resolute. The president, anticipating a flattering portrayal akin to his wife’s, likely looked forward to the process. However, as Chartran’s work progressed, Roosevelt’s enthusiasm turned to dismay.
In a letter to his son Kermit, Roosevelt bluntly stated, “Chartran has been painting my picture. I do not particularly like it.” This was a significant understatement. By early February, when the portrait was complete, it was clear that Chartran had missed the mark, at least in the eyes of the Roosevelt family. Instead of the vigorous, nature-loving president they knew, Chartran had painted a man who appeared, in their words, “powerless and dainty.” The family’s reaction was to jokingly dub the portrait “the mewing cat,” a nickname that perfectly captured their dissatisfaction. Despite the president’s displeasure, the portrait was sent to France for exhibition.
Roosevelt’s frustration was understandable. He had dedicated precious time from his demanding schedule to sit for Chartran, only to be presented with a portrait he openly disliked. However, before he could fully dismiss the matter, another portraitist was scheduled to arrive at the White House: John Singer Sargent.
Months prior, in 1902, Roosevelt had begun considering artists for his official presidential portrait. John Singer Sargent was an obvious choice. A celebrated American expatriate artist, Sargent was renowned for his portraits of prominent figures, from European barons to industry leaders. He was lauded for his ability to capture the inner character of his subjects, to “see beneath the surface.” Roosevelt, impressed by Sargent’s reputation, wrote to him, declaring, “It seems to me eminently fitting that an American President should have you paint his picture.” At the time, Roosevelt likely underestimated the ordeal that sitting for a portrait, even for a master like Sargent, would become.
John Singer Sargent’s 1903 portrait of Theodore Roosevelt, a stark contrast to the “mewing cat” portrait, became the iconic representation of the 26th President. (Image Source: Wikimedia Commons)
Sargent arrived at the White House on February 11, 1903, just days after Chartran’s departure. Sargent, a meticulous and experienced portraitist, began by scouting the White House grounds with Roosevelt to find the ideal setting. He aimed to create a portrait that conveyed Roosevelt’s multifaceted personality: his love for nature, his “rugged strength,” his political stature, and his approachable side. He decided on an indoor setting to control the lighting and background, seeking a location that would allow him to capture all these elements simultaneously.
However, Roosevelt proved to be a challenging subject. Accustomed to being in command, he disliked being directed by Sargent. His impatience was evident as Sargent guided him through the White House, pausing in various rooms, assessing light and backdrops, often shaking his head in dissatisfaction.
Tension escalated between the artist and the president during their White House tour. Their disagreements over the perfect location devolved into bickering, much like schoolboys. As they ascended the stairs in search of a suitable spot on an upper floor, Roosevelt, exasperated, accused Sargent of being indecisive.
Sargent, equally frustrated, retorted that Roosevelt didn’t know how to pose.
At that moment, on the stair landing, Roosevelt abruptly turned, grabbed the newel-post of the railing, placed a hand on his hip, and exclaimed, “Don’t I!”
And in that spontaneous gesture, Sargent found his pose. He instructed Roosevelt to freeze – they had finally discovered the location for the portrait.
Esteemed portraitist John Singer Sargent faced a unique challenge in capturing the dynamic and often impatient President Theodore Roosevelt. (Photo Credit: James E. Purdy via Wikimedia Commons)
Over the following week, Sargent painted Roosevelt whenever he could persuade him to sit still. This was no easy feat. Roosevelt’s schedule was relentless, and he frequently found excuses to leave. He begrudgingly sat for Sargent for brief periods, usually after lunch, and rarely for more than thirty minutes at a time. Even when present, Roosevelt was restless, his mind clearly occupied with numerous other matters.
Sargent later confessed that during his time at the White House, he often felt like “a rabbit in the presence of a boa constrictor,” a testament to Roosevelt’s forceful and demanding personality. Despite these challenges, Sargent completed the portrait on February 19, 1903, just over a week after commencing.
The finished portrait depicted Roosevelt standing proudly against a grey-gold backdrop. His left hand rested on his hip, and his right hand firmly grasped the newel-post of the stairwell. While devoid of explicit symbols of his outdoorsmanship or political office, the portrait conveyed Roosevelt’s complex character – bold, resolute, and undeniably truthful. A New York Times article observed that the portrait captured not the “genial side of the President,” but rather his alertness, his intense energy, and the forceful demeanor he exhibited “in the mood of fierce discussion, his lips still quivering with speech, his eyes narrowed behind the glasses in a watchful gaze.”
While Sargent’s portrait couldn’t encompass every facet of Roosevelt’s dynamic personality, it succeeded in creating an enduring and iconic image. It showcased a man of strength and intelligence, even if at times difficult. The painting was both simple and powerful.
And what was President Roosevelt’s reaction to this second portrait, so different from the “mewing cat” likeness?
“I like his picture immensely,” he declared upon seeing Sargent’s work.
Roosevelt’s initial irritation with the portrait process vanished upon viewing Sargent’s masterpiece. He was delighted. The portrait was initially displayed in a private gallery in Washington, D.C., before being returned to the White House in late March. There, it became Roosevelt’s official presidential portrait, admired by the president and his family.
Roosevelt cherished Sargent’s portrait for the rest of his life, considering it the definitive portrayal of himself. So definitive, in fact, that when asked to sit for another artist less than six months later, President Roosevelt vehemently refused, stating: “Upon my word… After Sargent painted his portrait I registered a vow that I was through with sitting for any more portraits.”
As for Chartran’s unfortunate “mewing cat” portrait, after its exhibition tour in France, it returned to the White House. The Roosevelts promptly relegated it to a dimly lit back hallway, avoiding it whenever possible. Six years later, Roosevelt ordered its removal and destruction by fire. While it remains unknown if Chartran ever learned of Roosevelt’s extreme dislike for his work, he did diplomatically acknowledge in a Washington Post interview that “it was difficult to get the President to sit still; I never had a more restless or more charming sitter.” The tale of the “mewing cat” portrait serves as a humorous anecdote in presidential and art history, highlighting the clash of personalities and artistic visions that unfolded within the White House walls.
