1909: Quentin and his father talk on the veranda
It was a summer of wistaria. The twilight was full of it and of the smell of his father's cigar as they say on the front gallery after supper until it would be time for Quentin to start, while in the deep shaggy lawn below the veranda the fireflies blew and drifted in soft random (p23)
1910: Quentin, now a freshman at Harvard, gets a letter from his father
the odor, the scene, which five months later Mr Compson's letter would carry up from Mississippi and over the long iron New England snow and into Quentin's sitting-room at Harvard. (p23)
1833: Sutpen arrives, alone, in Jefferson
a Sunday morning in 1833 . . . with the bells ringing peaceful and peremptory and a little cacophonous - the demoninations in concord though not in tune - and the ladies and children and house negroes to carry the parasols and flywhisks, and even a few men (the ladies moving in hoops among the miniature broadcloth of little boys and the pantalettes of little girls, in the skirts of the time when ladies did not walk but floated) when the other men sitting with their feet on the railing of the Holston House gallery looked up, and there the stranger was. He was already half way across the square when they saw him, on a big hard-ridden roan horse, man and beast looking as though they had been created out of thin air and set down in the bright morning sabbath sunshine in the middle of a tired foxtrot - face and horse that none of them had ever seen before, name that none of them had ever heard, and origin and purpose which some of them were never to learn. (pp23-24)
1862-1864: Quentin's grandfather is promoted to Brigadier General
Quentin's grandfather (he was a young man too then; it would be years yet before he would become General Compson) (p25)
1839: Sutpen has a son
It was General Compson who first realised that at this time Sutpen lacked not only the money to spend for drink and conviviality, but the time and inclination as well: that he was at this time completely the slave of his secret and furious impatience, his conviction gained from whatever that recent experience had been - that fever mental or physical - of a need for haste, of time fleeing beneath him, which was to drive him for the next five years - as General Compson computed it, roughly until about nine months before his son was born. (p25)
1833: Sutpen registers title to 100 square miles of land in Yoknapatawpha
It was the Chickasaw Indian agent with or through whom he dealt and so it was not until he waked the County Recorder that Saturday night with the deed, patent, to the land and the gold Spanish coin, that the town learned that he now owned a hundred square miles of some of the best virgin bottom land in the country, (pp25-26)
1833: Sutpen returns to Jefferson with a band of slaves and a French architect
two months later he returned, again without warning and accompanied this time by the covered wagon with a negro driving it and on the seat with the negro a small, alertly resigned man with a grim, harried Latin face, in a frock coat and a flowered waistcoat and a hat which would have created no furore on a Paris boulevard . . . the wagon did not stop. Apparently it was only by sheer geographical hap that Sutpen passed through town at all, pausing only long enough for someone (not General Compson) to look beneath the wagon hood and into a black tunnel filled with still eyeballs and smelling like a wolfden. (pp26-27)
1835: Sutpen's mansion is finished, 'save for windowglass and ironware'
So it was finished then, down to the last plank and brick and wooden pin which they could make themselves. Unpainted and unfinished, without a pane of glass or a doorknob or hinge in it, twelve miles from town and almost that far from any neighbor, it stood for three years more surrounded by its formal gardens and promenades, its slave quarters and stables and smokehouses; wild turkey ranged within a mile of the house and deer came light and colored like smoke and left delicate prints in the formal beds where there would be no flowers for four years yet. (p29)
1835-1838: 'parties of men' camp at Sutpen's house to hunt and watch him wrestle with his slaves
It was at this time that he began to invite the parties of which Miss Coldfield told Quentin, out to Sutpen's Hundred to camp in blankets in the naked rooms of his embyronic formal opulence; they hunted, and at night played cards and drank, and on occasion he doubtless pitted his negroes against one another and perhaps even at this time participated now and then himself - (p30)
1838: Sutpen attends church to court Ellen Coldfield
So when, at the expiration of this second phase, three years after the house was finished and the architect departed, and again on Sunday morning and again without warning, the town saw him cross the square, on foot now but in the same garments in which he had ridden into town five years ago and which no one had seen since (he or one of the negroes had ironed the coat with heated bricks, General Compson told Quentin's father) and enter the Methodist church, only some of the men were surprised. The women merely said that he had exhausted the possibilities of the families of the men with whom he had hunted and gambled and that he had now come to town to find a wife exactly as he would have gone to the Memphis market to buy livestock or slaves. (p31)
1838: Sutpen leaves town 'for a second time' and returns with furnishings for house
"Then one day he quitted Jefferson for the second time," Mr. Compson told Quentin. "The town should have been accustomed to that by now. Nevertheless, his position had subtly changed, as you will see by the town's reaction to this second return. Because when he came back this time, he was in a sense a public enemy. Perhaps this was because of what he brought back with him this time: the material he brought back this time, as compared to the simple wagon load of wild niggers which he had brought back before. But I don't think so. That is, I think is was a little more involved than the sheer value of his chandeliers and mahoghany and rugs." (p33)
1838: a posse of citizens arrests Sutpen; Goodhue Coldfield bails him out of jail
They waited for him again. The crowd was growing fast now - other men and a few boys and even some negroes from the adjacent houses, clotting behind the original eight members of the committee who sat watching Mr Coldfield's door until he emerged. It was a good while and he no longer carried the flowers, but when he returned to the gate, he was engaged to be married. But they did not know this, because as soon as he reached the gate they arrested him. The took him back to town, with the ladies and children and house niggers watching from behind the curtains and behind the shrubbery in the yards and the corners of the houses, the kitchens where doubtless food was already beginning to scorch, and so back to the square where the rest of the able-bodied men left their offices and stores to follow, so that when he reached the courthouse, Sutpen had a larger following than if he actually had been the runaway slave. They arraigned him before a justice, but by that time your grandfather and Mr Coldfield had got there. They signed his bond and late that afternoon he returned home with Mr Coldfield, walking along the same street as of the forenoon, with doubtless the same faces watching him from behind the window curtains, to the betrothal supper with no wine at table and no whiskey before or after. (p36)
1838: two months later, Sutpen and Ellen marry
Two months later, he and Miss Ellen were married. It was in June of 1838, almost five years to the day from that Sunday morning when he rode into town on the roan horse. It (the wedding) was in the same Methodist church where he saw Ellen for the first time, according to Rosa. (p37)
1820: 14-year-old Sutpen turns 'his back on all that he knew' to seek 'vindication of a past affront'
Not concerned: just watchful, like he must have been from the day when he turned his back upon all that he knew - the faces and the customs - and (he was just fourteen then, he told your grandfather. Just the same age that Henry was that night in the stable which Miss Rosa told you about, which Henry could not quite stand up to) set out into a world which even in theory, the average geographical schooling of the normal boy of fourteen, he knew nothing about, and with a fixed goal in his mind which most men do not set up until the blood begins to slow at thirty or more and then only because the image represents peace and indolence or at least a crowning of vanity, not the vindication of a past affront in the person of a son whose seed is not yet, and would not be for years yet, planted. (p40)
1820-1833: Sutpen makes 'that mistake which became his doom' in 'a country whose language he had to learn'
That same alertness which he had to wear day and night without changing or laying aside, like the clothing which without doubt and for a time he had to sleep in as well as live in, and in a country and among a people whose very language he had to learn and where because of this he was to make that mistake which if he had acquiesced to it would not even have been an error and which, since he refused to accept it or be stopped by it, became his doom; (pp40-41)