1909: Mr. Compson retrieves Bon's 1865 letter to Judith
Mr Compson, carrying the letter, emerged from the house, snapping on the porch light as he passed. (p71) when she [Judith] received a letter from him saying We have waited long enough (p81) Yet here is the letter, sent four years afterward, written on a sheet of paper salvaged from a gutted house in Carolina, with stove polish found in some captured Yankee stores; four years after she had had any message from him save the messages from Henry that he (Bon) was still alive." (p85)
1860: Sutpen forbids Judith's marriage to Bon; Henry renounces his birthright and rides off with Bon to New Orleans
"Because Henry loved Bon. He repudiated blood birthright and material security for his sake, for the sake of this man who was at least an intending bigamist . . . even though he must have known that what his father had told him about the woman and the child was true." (pp71-72)
1865: Judith finds 'photograph of the other woman and the child' on Bon's body
and on whose dead body four years later Judith was to find the photograph of the other woman and the child. (p71) I dont think she ever did, suspected, until that afternoon four years later when she saw them again, when they brought Bon's body into the house and she found in his coat the photograph which was not her face, not her child; (p73) when she found in Bon's coat the picture of the octoroon mistress and the little boy. (p75)
1861: in New Orleans Bon introduces Henry to his 'octoroon mistress' and 'sixteenth part negro son'
what he learned, saw with his eyes in New Orleans. (p72) and Henry, the countryman, . . . being carried by the friend, the mentor, through one of those inscrutable and curiously lifeless doorways like that before which he had seen the horse or the trap, and so into a place which to his puritan's provincial mind all of morality was upside down and all of honor perished - a place created for and by voluptuousness, the abashless and unabashed senses, and the country boy with his simple and ertswhile untroubled code in which females were ladies or whores or slaves looked at the apotheosis of two doomed races presided over by its own victim - a woman with a face like a tragic magnolia, the eternal female, the eternal Who-suffers; the child, the boy, sleeping in silk and lace to be sure yet complete chattel of him who, begetting him, owned him body and soul to sell (if he chose) like a calf or puppy or sheep; (pp90-91)
1859: Bon 'marries' the octoroon woman in an extra-legal ceremony
Because he loved Judith. He would have added doubtless 'after his fashion' since, as his intended father-in-law soon learned, this was not the first time he had played this part, pledged what he had pledged to Judith, let alone the first time he would have gone through a ceremony to commemorate it, make what distinction (he was a Catholic of sorts) he might between this one with a white woman and that other. (p75)
1865: Henry shoots Bon to keep him from marrying Judith
yet who must champion the marriage to the extent of repudiating father and blood and home to become a follower and dependent of the rejected suitor for four years before killing him apparently for the very identical reason which four years ago he quitted home to champion; (p79)
1860: while Henry brings Bon home again for 'a day or two,' Sutpen goes to New Orleans to investigate Bon's past
and Sutpen, who had seen Bon once and was in New Orleans investigating him when Bon next entered the house: who knows what he was thinking, what waiting for, what moment, day, to go to New Orleans and find what he seems to have known all the while that he would find? (p82) You would almost believe that Sutpen's trip to New Orleans was just sheer chance, just a little more of the illogical machinations of a fatality which had chosen that family in preference to any other in the county or the land exactly as a small boy chooses one ant-hill to pour boiling water into in preference to any other, not even himself knowing why. (p81)
1859: after Henry brings Bon to Sutpen's Hundred, 'in Ellen's mind' Bon and Judith become engaged
that wedding whose formal engagement existed no where yet save in Ellen's mind; (p82)
1861: Bon and Henry enlist as privates in a company formed at the university
So she did not tell him where Henry and Bon were and he did not discover it until after the University company departed, because Bon and Henry enrolled and then hid themselves somewhere. They must have; they must have paused in Oxford only long enough to enroll before riding on, because no one who knew them either in Oxford or Jefferson knew that they were members of the company at the time, which would have been almost impossible to conceal otherwise. (p97)
1861: Bon is promoted to lieutenant
that mental and spiritual orphan whose fate it apparently was to exist in some limbo halfway between where his corporeality was and his mentality and moral equipment desired to be - an undergraduate at the University, yet by the sheer accumulation of too full years behind him forced into the extra-academic of a law class containing six members; in the War, by that same force removed into the isolation of commissioned rank. He received a lieutenancy before the company entered its first engagement even. I dont think he wanted it; I can even imagine him trying to avoid it, refuse it. But there it was, he was, orphaned once more by the very situation to which and by which he was doomed - (p98)
1862: Henry saves wounded Bon at the battle of Pittsburg Landing
the private who carried that officer, shot through the shoulder, on his back while the regiment fell back under the Yankee guns at Pittsburg Landing, carried him to safety apparently for the sole purpose of watching him for two years more, writing Judith meanwhile that they were both alive, and that was all. (pp98-99)
1863: Ellen dies; Sutpen (promoted to Colonel) brings her marble headstone to Sutpen's Hundred
Then Ellen died, the butterfly of a forgotten summer two years defunctive now - the substanceless shell, the shade impervious to any alteration or dissolution because of its very weightlessness: no body to be buried: just the shape, the recollection, translated on some peaceful afternoon without bell or catafalque into that cedar grove, to lie in powder-light paradox beneath the thousand pounds of marble monument which Sutpen (Colonel Sutpen now, since Sartoris had been deposed at the annual election of regimental officers the year before) brought in the regimental forage wagon from Charleston, South Carolina and set above the faint grassy depression which Judith told him was Ellen's grave. (p100)
1865: Judith buries Bon next to her mother, and gives his letter to Quentin's grandmother
this letter, this first direct word from Bon in four years and which, a week after she buried him too beside her mother's tombstone, she brought to town herself, in the surrey drawn by the mule which both she and Clytie had learned to catch and harness, and gave to your grandmother, bringing the letter voluntarily to your grandmother, who (Judith) never called on anyone now, had no friends now, doubtless knowing no more why she chose your grandmother to give the letter to than your grandmother knew; (p100)
1909: Quentin reads Bon's 1865 letter to Judith
Mr Compson moved. Half rising, Quentin took the letter from him and beneath the dim bug-fouled globe opened it, carefully, as though the sheet, the desiccated square, were not the paper but the intact ash of its former shape and substance: and meanwhile Mr Compson's voice speaking on while Quentin heard it without listening . . . as he read the faint spidery script not like something impressed upon the paper by a once-living hand but like a shadow cast upon it which had resolved on the paper the instant before he looked at it and which might fade, vanish, at any instant while he still did: the dead tongue speaking after the four years and then after almost fifty more, gentle sardonic whimsical and incurably pessimistic, without date or salutation or signature: (p101-02)
1865: Bon writes Judith from the War to say 'we have waiting long enough' to marry
We have waiting long enough. You will notice how I do not insult you either by saying I have waited long enough. And therefore, since I do not insult you by saying that only I have waited, I do not add, expect me. Because I cannot say when to expect me. Because what WAS is one thing, and now it is not because it is dead, it died in 1861, and therefore what IS - (p104)