Roundhead and Cavalier: In a general way, it is said that New by James Russell Lowell

It sits right on the border. Lowell published prose annotations and essay-poems that mix historical commentary with literary intent. This piece feels like an annotated prose-poem or a scholarly gloss—similar to the writing found in nineteenth-century literary magazines and editions. While it doesn't have a consistent meter or rhyme scheme, its thoughtful rhythm and compact themes lend it a poetic quality.

The Roundheads were the Puritan supporters of Parliament during the English Civil War in the 1640s, while the Cavaliers supported King Charles I and embodied the aristocratic, Anglican establishment. When Lowell states that New England was settled by Roundheads and the South by Cavaliers, he highlights a genuine historical trend, albeit a simplified one: early New England was largely shaped by Puritan dissenters, whereas the Southern colonies drew in more Anglican, gentry-class settlers. This cultural divide contributed directly to the tensions that led to the American Civil War.

They were two rival political factions in medieval Italy, existing from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries. The Guelphs typically supported the Pope, while the Ghibellines backed the Holy Roman Emperor. Their conflict was marked by extreme violence and lasted a long time—Dante, writing around 1300, was affected by it, as he was exiled from Florence by the victorious faction. Lowell points to them as the quintessential example of a feud that endures beyond its original cause.

Because his argument is that American regional conflict isn't a new issue — it's just the most recent example of a long-standing human tendency to form armed groups based on inherited loyalties. By placing the Plantagenets, Hapsburgs, and Guelphs next to the Roundheads and Cavaliers, he illustrates how this pattern has recurred throughout centuries and across different continents.

The Plantagenet kings of England originated from Anjou, a region in France, which is why they are also known as the 'House of Anjou.' Lowell points this out to subtly challenge the romantic notion of a pure English aristocratic lineage: even the most 'English' royal lineage has French roots. He suggests that identity is often a blend of influences rather than the straightforward heritage its supporters prefer to believe.

That political and cultural identity is shaped by a long historical legacy, and the divisions Americans have faced — particularly the North-South divide — aren’t mere coincidences or oddities; they are the latest manifestation of rivalries that have influenced Western civilization for centuries. It’s a sobering, somewhat fatalistic observation: these issues are not easily resolved because they are deeply rooted.

It stands out as the only emotionally charged word in an otherwise cool, factual passage, and Lowell uses it intentionally. 'Bitter' implies that the hostility has soured beyond mere rational disagreement into something deeply personal and damaging — a kind of hatred that can be inherited through families and communities. It serves as a subtle warning about the potential consequences of the Roundhead-Cavalier divide in America, or where it may have already led by the time Lowell was writing.

Lowell was writing during the Civil War (1861–1865), a time when the nation was deeply divided along North-South lines, just as he describes. By positioning this conflict as an American episode in a long European narrative of factions and dynasties, he adds historical significance while hinting that it was somewhat unavoidable — the clash between the Puritan and Cavalier temperaments seemed destined to happen.