The music his prints suggest isn't really music, but harsh and joyless laughter. The Light of Reason ruled his age, but seldom pierced his art. Instead he sought the shadows. Reanimated corpses rise up in his etchings. Donkeys read vast tomes of donkey genealogy.
Lechers drool and hookers flirt.
Horned fiends receive pedicures. Witches ride stiff broomsticks through Goya's inky skies. When he announced his etchings in 1799, Goya promised they would criticize human vice and error. But criticism ought to be reinforced by logic, and logic is confounded by the strangeness of this art. It's a sort of a self-portrait.