Did Tolkien read Solovyov? Very probably, yes. Although, up to the present moment, I have not uncovered any direct evidence, certain details in the works of the two authors allow us to lean toward a positive answer. At first glance, such concerns might seem to you like mere exercises in the erudition of a writer passionate about stories featuring hobbits. Yes, that may be part of it. At the same time, however, it is much more than that. My genuine interest in such a subject was reinforced when I realized that not only Solovyov, whose apocalyptic fiction demonstrates this interest, but Tolkien as well was deeply concerned with the most troubling question in the history of Christianity: the signs of the end of the world.
For today’s readers, the name of Vladimir Solovyov is inextricably linked to his famous Short Story of the Antichrist. Often printed independently, it is easy to forget that this short story is part of a longer work entitled War, Progress and the End of History: Three Conversations. Published in Russian in the very year of the author’s death, 1900, the volume was translated into English fairly quickly. In 1915, the University of London Press published the translation by the film and theatre critic Alexander Bakshy (1885–1949), with a biographical note by Sir Hagberg Wright (1862–1940).[1] Considering only the fact that Tolkien was 23 years old in 1915, it is entirely plausible that he read Solovyov’s story about the Antichrist.
The Russian thinker’s text is compelling in the force of its depiction of the idolatrous egocentrism of the greatest enemy of Our Lord Jesus Christ in history. The psychological portrait of his inner struggle—a struggle that will lead him to regard himself as superior to the Crucified One—is one of the most profound critical analyses ever made of the mentality of modern man. Alongside the psychological dimension of the Antichrist’s portrait, a subtle philosopher such as Solovyov could not avoid the mystery of evil (mysterium iniquitatis). At the end of the story, in the very final passages, two of the characters discuss precisely this ultimate speculative theme. The Lady, who in this context represents the “common sense” of the masses, seems rather emotionally attracted to the Antichrist’s generosity and his desire to eradicate poverty completely and permanently:
I cannot understand, moreover, why your Anti-Christ hates God so much whilst in essence he is really kind and not wicked at all.[2]
The reply of the character Mr. Z—who represents Solovyov himself—captures the essence of the final adversary of our Lord Jesus Christ:
No. Not ‘in essence.’ That is just the point. That is the whole matter. I will withdraw the words I said before that ‘you cannot explain Anti-Christ only by proverbs.’ In point of fact, he is completely explained by a single and extremely simple proverb: ‘All is not gold that glitters.’ Of sham glitter he indeed has more than enough; but of the essential force— nothing.[3]
The deepest metaphysical doctrine, whose primary sources are the speculations of Proclus—in the pagan world—and of Saint Dionysius the Areopagite—in the Christian world—subtly emphasizes that although evil has a certain existence, it has no essence. Avoiding speculations far too difficult for those unaccustomed to the practice of meditation and its metaphysical vocabulary, Mr. Z (i.e., Vladimir Solovyov) summarizes the essence of this teaching through a visual metaphor dear both to Shakespeare and to Goethe: counterfeit gold.
Many years ago, I unwittingly witnessed such an act of deception: a relative of mine bought a solid-gold ring from a traveling merchant. Exceptionally shiny—in fact, far too shiny compared with genuine gold—the ring turned out to be… pyrite, completely worthless. In other words, the essence of the value that had been paid for—the gold—was absent. It was all merely a game of deceptive appearances. Like the devil, who is incapable of creating ex nihilo and is therefore merely a forger of the world created by God, the Antichrist is a master of illusions—economic (through money that has no correspondence to reality), political (through the promised global peace and security), and religious (through the universalist ecumenism promoted against the true, unique Christian religion).
Although at first glance it may appear to be a Russian proverb, as some commentators have suggested, it is impossible to overlook the most likely origin of the key phrase in Mr. Z’s quotation:
All is not gold that glitters.
Its origin is to be found in one of William Shakespeare’s plays, The Merchant of Venice (Act 2, Scene 7). Here, the hand of the wealthy Portia can be won by choosing correctly among three caskets: gold, silver, and lead. Driven by greed, the Prince of Morocco chooses the golden casket, in which he finds a skull and the following message:
All that glisters is not gold
Often have you heard that told.
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold.
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been enscrolled,
Fare you well, your suit is cold.[4]
A highly accomplished connoisseur of Shakespeare’s works, Solovyov knew the lines quoted above. Perfectly suited to his context, which is, after all, concerned with the greatest charlatan in history, it seems entirely natural that he should have used the image of counterfeit gold to emphasize the ontology of nothingness manifested by the devil and his accomplice, the Antichrist. What struck me, however, in Mr. Z’s words, which quote Shakespeare’s verse, is the exact point of intersection—the “Shakespearean point”—between Vladimir Solovyov’s work and that of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien.
For all readers of Tolkien, one of the most beautiful and touching moments in the epic The Lord of the Ring occurs when the hobbits first encounter the hidden King, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. As a sign of recognition, Gandalf had sent Frodo the poem composed by Bilbo—“Riddle of Strider.” The first line says it all:
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.[5]
There can be no slightest doubt, as learned scholars such as Judith Kollman have already shown,[6] that Tolkien inverted Shakespeare’s line from The Merchant of Venice, adapting its meaning to the context of the hobbits’ encounter with Aragorn. From a line describing the deception of glittering appearances, Tolkien derives another that describes the worth of one who, although not—at first sight—shining, secretly possesses the quality of gold. It is he, the hidden king. Here, then, we have a single source—Shakespeare—and two authors influenced by the Bard of Avon: Solovyov and Tolkien. Could the latter have known the work of the former?
As I have already said, I do not yet possess any evidence of a direct influence. What seems to me more than significant, however, is the following fact. Whereas in Solovyov Shakespeare’s line applies to the most dangerous manipulative magician at the end of history, in Tolkien it applies, by contrast, to one of the two great heroes (the King, Aragorn, and the Wise Man, Gandalf) who resist to the very end the one who, as I have already shown in another essay,[7] is the allegorical representation of the Antichrist in The Lord of the Rings: Sauron. A symmetry which, regardless of whether or not the thesis of a direct influence of Solovyov on Tolkien is eventually confirmed, is charged with all the significance of the moment when Aragorn directly confronts Sauron, revealing himself to him through the Palantír of Orthanc as the rightful bearer of the sword Andúril, reforged by the Elves.
It is a matter of perspective and ethos between two authors who share the same Christian (i.e., Catholic) faith: while Solovyov, with his apocalyptic outlook, meditates on the figure of the Antichrist, offering us—as a premonitory warning—a plausible portrait of him, Tolkien, stubbornly clinging to hope, describes the virtues of those who dare—like Enoch and Elijah—to oppose him.
Photo by Kevin Bosc on Unsplash
[1] Vladimir Soloviev, War, progress, and the end of history, including a short story of the Anti-Christ. Three discussions, Translated from the Russian by Alexander Bakshy, With a Biographical Notice by Dr. Hagberg Wright, London: University of London Press, Published by Hodder & Stoughton, 1915.
[2] Vladimir Soloviev, op. cit., p. 227.
[3] Ibidem.
[4] William Shakespeare, The Complete Works, Stanley Wells, Garry Taylor, John Jowett, and William Montgomery (General Editors), Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988, p. 436.
[5] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Ring Sets Out being the first book of The Lord of the Rings, Harper Collins, 2001, Chapter 10: “Strider,” p. 224.
[6] Judith J. Kollmann, “How ‘All That Glisters Is Not Gold’ Became ‘All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter:’ Aragorn’s Debt to Shakespeare,” in Janet Brennan Croft (editor), Tolkien and Shakespeare: Essays on Shared Themes and Languages, Jefferson: McFarland & Company, 2007, pp. 110–127.
[7] See “Tolkien’s Apocalypse. How Holy Scripture Influenced The Lord of the Rings:” https://kmitalibrary.substack.com/p/tolkiens-apocalypse [Accessed: 23 August 2026].