Possibly an architectural fragment

Rogers contemplated the plays of Shakespeare as a potential subject from the earliest years of his professional career. In 1861 he wrote of his plans for a series and assayed a handful of such themes into 1862, including one titled The Merchant of Venice, which he showed at the National Academy of Design (to his dismay, it went unnoticed). No examples of these early groups survive. Nearly twenty years passed before the Bard resurfaced in Rogers' work. The sculptor created an acclaimed series of groups that included "Is It So Nominated in the Bond?" (1936.659, 1926.37) from The Merchant of Venice; The Wrestlers (1936.645, 1926.37) from As You Like It; "Ha! I Like Not That" (1936.658, 1929.108) from Othello; and "You Are a Spirit, I Know: When Did You Die?" (1936.646, 1932.99, 1948.413) from King Lear. He concluded with this work from Romeo and Juliet. The play intertwines elements of comedy and tragedy, and Rogers turned to a moment of flirtation and courtship, as he had done successfully in numerous other sculptures. However, viewers knew the romance's tragic end, giving this early scene particular tension and poignancy. He chose the moment from act 1, scene 5, when the young lovers first meet at a masked ball at the Capulet house. Romeo has come in the disguise of a palmer, that is, a religious pilgrim. He wears a rough cloak over his courtly clothing, as well as prayer beads and a bag bearing a scallop shell, a medieval symbol of pilgrimage. He has just kissed Juliet's hand and lifts his mask to make himself known to her. Lovely Juliet gazes at him intently as she is bodily pulled away by her nurse, who has an arm around her waist and holds her hand. A master of texture and detail, Rogers created a stark contrast between Juliet's smooth, fresh hand and the elderly nurse's wrinkled and veined one. The nurse is modestly dressed and, like Romeo, wears prayer beads; hers, however, are not part of a costume but a symbol of her genuine piety. This sculpture is more intimately composed than Rogers' previous Shakespearean groups, lacking any indication of a setting. Rather than using a rectangular base as he had done for other Shakespearean groups to create an enlarged, stagelike space, Rogers chose an oval base that reduces the space between the figures. Romeo even leans over, placing himself at the women's height. Juliet is pressed against the nurse, and the open space between her and Romeo, which will grow as she is pulled away, suggests the distance between them; soon after this moment each discovers the other's identity as a bitter enemy. Nineteenth-century Americans were more familiar with the works of Shakespeare than we are today, and many New Yorkers would have remembered the elaborate version of Romeo and Juliet mounted at the spectacular Booth Theater in 1869. Edwin Booth and his soon-to-be wife, Mary F. McVicker, played the title roles to an incredibly successful six-week run. The play's popularity in New York continued for years; it was presented nearly every year in the city throughout the 1870s and 1880s.

Rogers often drew on the common experiences and shared wisdom of his day to connect with his audience. This group offers a gently humorous episode illustrating the popular adage "Who shall decide when doctors disagree and soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?" from Alexander Pope's Moral Essays. An older woman sits between two doctors who are disputing the diagnosis. One holds her wrist, taking her pulse, and explains his view to his colleague, who is indignantly putting on his coat before storming out. The umbrella under his arm has a scowling face carved on its handle that playfully echoes that of its owner, and it appears that in his pique the departing doctor is allowing the other end of the umbrella to poke the patient in the ribs. The woman, however, seems fairly sanguine; she is comfortably seated with a book in hand and fruit on the table at her side. Her head is inclined toward the doctor holding her wrist, suggesting that she has decided between the conflicting diagnoses, much to the consternation of the rejected physician. Contemporary writers were quick to grasp the humor in Rogers' depiction. Several noted that the invalid seemed to be enjoying the little drama playing out around her, and a few pointed out how the two doctors "are substantiating most eloquently by look and action the old adage about the disagreements of medical men."

In the mid-1870s Rogers assayed a handful of subjects dealing with men who earned their livings as itinerants, whether performers, such as the organ grinder in School Days (1936.642, 1929.101) and The Traveling Magician (1936.637, 1926.35) or a vendor. Here Rogers created what appears at first glance to be a gentle, lighthearted vignette. However, on closer examination, it hints at the unsavory realities of these lower-class professions and the darker side of realism that sometimes showed through the artist's usually upbeat subjects. Nineteenth-century fairs of every kind were populated by traveling peddlers selling merchandise that ranged from dubious medicines to household goods. Rogers' peddler sells jewelry and other baubles, and his wares have caught the interest of a young woman in an elegant dress and feathered hat. She is coaxing her father to buy her a necklace. Her father, also well dressed and wearing a scowl of disapproval, gives in to her whim and digs into his pocket for the purchase price. Critics suggested that his reluctance might be due to irritation at purchasing cheap goods, or simply stinginess. In fact, one columnist with the pseudonym Pax, misinterpreted them as a married couple and used the sculpture as an occasion to urge husbands to be more generous with their wives. Whatever the cause, contemporary writers were quick to recognize the familiar domestic drama that played out between fathers and daughters. In fact, Rogers may have been inspired by a similar incident in his own family, perhaps with his ten-year-old daughter, Katherine. Ever the dedicated realist, Rogers could not entirely gloss over the difficult lives led by itinerant salesmen. He carefully depicted the class differences between the salesman and his customers: they are fashionably dressed, but his clothing is modest and plain. In contrast to the dignified (if disgruntled) demeanor of the father, the peddler looks somewhat clownlike. He has clothed himself in his wares, pinning hair ornaments to his coat and wearing a hat decorated with necklaces. The eagerness in his face as he leans forward suggests that he needs the sale. The year that Rogers released this sculpture, the United States was still recovering from a recession, so the peddler's plight was shared by many others. Given Rogers' long-standing interest in horses, it is both poignant and revealing that he illustrated the peddler's plight through his steed. In contrast to Rogers' earlier depictions of lively, healthy horses, such as those in Going for the Cows (1936.650, 1929.98) and We Boys (1936.711, 1936.661, 1929.96), this one stands passive and dispirited, and from the back the viewer can see that its ribs strain against its skin; the horse is underfed, perhaps like the peddler himself. Though The Peddler at the Fair received glowing reviews, it did not prove very popular, perhaps because Rogers' depiction of the starker realities of the lower classes was considered an unsettling subject for middle-class parlors.

A marble version is at the Mattatuck Historical Society in Waterbury, Connecticut.