In this fantasy the hidden God (deus absconditus) who rules the underworld of death and shadows all living existence with the question of final consequences, comes also to mean the God of the hidden, the underworld meaning in things, their deeper obscurities. Underworld, secrecy, hiddenness, and death, whether in the chambers of plotters or the psychic interiority of scholars, reflect the invisible God Hades. It is against this background that we must place also such major Renaissance concerns as reputation (fama), nobility, and dignity. They take on further significance when envisioned within a psychology that bears death in mind. To consider fama merely as fame in our romantic sense puts Renaissance psychology into the inflated ego of the very important person or pop star. But when death gives the basic perspec-tive, then magnificence, reputation, and nobility of style are tributes to soul, part of what can be done for it during the ego's short hour on the stage. Then fame refers to the lasting worth of soul and psychology can afford to treat of the grand themes: perfection of grace, dignity of man, nobility of princes.
— James Hillman
Hades, for Hillman, is not the god you invoke but the god who is already present — the background pressure that gives weight to everything conducted in the light. What this passage does is rescue Renaissance *fama* from its modern reduction. We hear "fame" and immediately translate it into visibility, audience, the ego's hunger for confirmation. But that reading is already a evasion: it flattens depth into surface, converts soul-currency into social currency, and leaves the Renaissance humanists looking like early adopters of personal branding.
The correction is precise. When death provides the basic perspective — not as morbid preoccupation but as the frame that makes any act consequential — then magnificence and nobility are not vanity. They are what can be done *for soul* during the brief interval the ego is permitted on the stage. This shifts the question entirely. It is no longer "how will I be remembered?" — which still centers the ego's anxiety — but "what did the soul manage here, while it had the chance?" The duration is short. The weight, on Hillman's reading, is permanent. Hades is the god of lasting worth, not of annihilation; his hiddenness is not absence but depth, the very condition that makes surface acts mean anything at all.
James Hillman·Re-Visioning Psychology·1975