FRANCISCO GOYA - Heksensabbat - 1798 - Canvas Afdruk

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐 𝑮𝒐𝒚𝒂 (𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝟏𝟕𝟒𝟔-𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟖) - 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔' 𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉 - 𝑶𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑻𝒊𝒕𝒍𝒆: 𝑬𝒍 𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆 - 𝟏𝟕𝟗𝟖 - 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎 / 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒎 - 𝑮𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒄, 𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 - 𝑶𝒊𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒗𝒂𝒔 - 𝑯𝒊-𝑹𝒆𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏, 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐 𝑮𝒐𝒚𝒂'𝒔 𝟏𝟕𝟗𝟖 𝒐𝒊𝒍 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, "𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔' 𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉," 𝒖𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆. 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆, 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆: 𝑩𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒂𝒕-𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍. 𝑯𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒂𝒌 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒚 - 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏. 𝑶𝒏𝒆, 𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒑, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒆; 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒂 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉, 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍, 𝒂 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒚, 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝒀𝒆𝒕, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑨 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆. 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕'𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒔. 𝑮𝒐𝒚𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒖; 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒎, 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 - 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒔, 𝒇𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒉 𝑮𝒐𝒚𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓. 𝑩𝒆𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, "𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔' 𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉" 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. 𝑰𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝑮𝒐𝒚𝒂'𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑰𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏'𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒚𝒂'𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒉'𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔. 𝑰𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒄'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔, 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏. "𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔' 𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉" 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒍𝒆; 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓, 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒖𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆, 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉.