The year 1816 was distinguished in Haydon's life as the epoch of his
first, or, more accurately, his last serious love-affair. He was of a
susceptible temperament, and seems to have been a favourite with
women, whom he inspired with his own strong belief in himself; but he
demanded much of the woman who was to be his wife, and hitherto he had
not found one who seemed worthy of that exalted position. He had long
been acquainted with Maria Foote, the actress, for whom he entertained
a qualified admiration, and by her he was taken one day to a friend's
house where, 'In one instant, the loveliest face that was ever created
since God made Eve, smiled gently at my approach. The effect of her
beauty was instantaneous. On the sofa lay a dying man and a boy about
two years old. We shortly took leave. I never spoke a word, and after
seeing M---- home, I returned to the house, and stood outside, in
hopes that she would appear at the window. I went home, and for the
first time in my life was really, heartily, thoroughly, passionately
in love. I hated my pictures. I hated the Elgin Marbles. I hated
books. I could not eat, or sleep, or think, or write, or talk. I got
up early, examined the premises and street, and gave a man
half-a-crown to let me sit concealed, and watch for her coming out.
Day after day I grew more and more enraptured, till resistance was
relinquished with a glorious defiance of restraint. Her conduct to her
dying husband, her gentle reproof of my impassioned air, riveted my
being. But I must not anticipate. Sufficient for the present, O
reader, is it to tell thee that B. R. Haydon is, and for ever will be,
in love with that woman, and that she is his wife.'

The first note that Haydon has preserved from his friend Keats is
dated November 1816, and runs: