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In order to explain the philosophical notion of “affect”, Eugenie Brinkema starts with the word’s etymology, from the Latin affectus and the verb afficere (“to act upon”), concluding that “affect [...] invokes force more than transmission, a force that does not have to move from subject to object but may fold back, rebound, recursively amplify” (Brinkema 2014: 24). Taking Brinkema’s theorizations as its starting point, this paper uses affect theory, posthumanism, and object-oriented ontology to reinterpret the representation of Hercules’ affectus, namely his madness, within Seneca’s Hercules Furens. This exploration of the tragedy through modern theory sheds new light on the blurring of the boundaries between human affections and the agency of objects, thus leading us to question traditional notions of physical and psychic unity of the subject, as well as definitions of (human) identity.

Suspended between opposite extremes, good and evil, divinity and bestiality, (hyper)masculinity and femininity, Hercules is one of the most ambiguous figures in Greco-Roman culture (Loraux 1995; Papadoupolou 2004). Building upon this ambivalent depiction, the Hercules Furens combines the previous literary tradition, most notably Euripides’ Herakles, with the dialectics between self and the other, body and mind, wisdom and aberration that characterize Seneca’s dramatic production (Fitch 1987; Billerbeck 1999). In the Euripidean drama, Hercules’ fury has been read as the result of the coexistence of an external agent and mental disease (Holmes 2008), whereas Seneca stresses to a greater extent the internal origin of Hercules’ madness. At the same time, this fury manifests itself as physical disease, with evident bodily symptoms (hallucinations; rolling eyes; convulsive movements: cf.HF939-1053). Alongside his body, Hercules’ anger influences, and is influenced by, the affective objects around him. His weapons, for instance, are co- actors in the slaughter that Hercules commits during his madness, and are thus personified and provided with an autonomous agency (992-994; 1153-1154; 1199-1200).

Alongside this attribution of agency to the weapons, Hercules’ loss of control over his body articulates the de-centralization of the human subject. Hercules cannot see what is actually in front of his eyes, thus mistaking his sons and wife for Lycus’ family (HF 987-991); he cannot hear Megara’s prays (HF 1015-1021); he is deprived of psychic consciousness, so that his body changes into an autonomous entity. The transformation of Hercules’ body into an automaton, a quasi-posthuman assemblage (Haraway 1997), is confirmed by the thematic and lexical parallels between his attitudes and other quasi-cybernetic characters within the Greco-Roman tradition, such as the giant Talos in Apollonius’ Argonautica. Like the furious Hercules, Talos throws objects (Argon. 4.1638-1640) and experiences hallucinations provoked by Medea’s magic, which enhance its anger, before it eventually faints (1669-1688), as does Hercules (HF 1039-1053).

The application of modern theory to Seneca’s HF reveals Hercules’ progressive de-humanization. The collapse of the distinctions between human and non-human that takes place during Hercules’ madness encourages us to rethink the very notion of ‘human’ and ‘self’ as being intrinsically fragmented, fluid, and malleable, continuously remodeled by the experience of its passions, corporeality, and surrounding objects.