I · THE OBJECT · BRITISH MUSEUM
Great Mongol Shahnameh
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The national epic of Iran was painted for Mongol rulers just as their dynasty faltered. The book was never finished; a dealer later broke it into saleable leaves.
At a glance
- Date
- c. 1330
- Origin
- Ilkhanate
- Dimensions
- 60 × 40 cm (1 ft 4 in)
- Form
- Illuminated manuscript of the Shahnameh
- Collections
- Freer, Louvre, British Museum, Metropolitan Museum
Look closer
A large page for a large project
At about sixty centimetres high and forty wide, each leaf is unusually generous for an early Persian manuscript. The scale was not decorative surplus; it left room for dense verse and for paintings that could carry courtly, battle, and funerary scenes without crowding the text block. What survives as single sheets once belonged to a planned two-volume book whose original binding and full sequence were never securely recorded.
One epic, two languages of power
The Shahnameh is the Persian national epic, retelling the deeds of Iran’s ancient kings. These leaves were made under Ilkhanid rule, roughly a century after the Mongol conquest of Persia, for a court that governed in a Mongol imperial frame while commissioning work in the literary and pictorial language of its subjects. The manuscript is both a version of that epic and a product of that political moment.
Leaves, not a book
What museums hold today are separate pages, not a bound volume. In the early twentieth century the dealer George Demotte broke the manuscript apart in Europe. Many of the surviving leaves were significantly tampered with in the process of making them saleable as independent pictures. They now sit in the Freer Gallery of Art, the Louvre’s Department of Islamic Arts, the British Museum, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, among other holdings.
The story
The Great Mongol Shahnameh is an illuminated manuscript of the Shahnameh, the long Persian epic of kings, heroes, and dynastic rise and fall. It was produced in the Ilkhanate around 1330, most likely at court, as a version of that poem rather than a new text. In its own day it would have been handled as a bound book. What remains is a scatter of large painted and written leaves.
The Ilkhanids ruled Persia as part of the Mongol imperial world, about a century after the conquest. By the time this manuscript was under way the dynasty was near its end. Commissioning a Shahnameh on this scale was not a casual act of patronage. It placed Mongol rulers inside a Persian historical imagination that stretched back through legendary kings, and it did so in the established visual language of the Persian miniature, pushed to an ambitious size.
Scholars reconstruct the original plan only in outline. The complete book was never securely described before it was dismantled. It is thought to have been intended as two volumes of roughly two hundred and eighty folios with around one hundred and ninety illustrations, and it is also thought that the project was never finished. Those figures are working estimates, not a surviving contents list. The uncertainty matters: every claim about sequence, missing scenes, or the balance of text to image rests on comparison of the dispersed leaves rather than on an intact codex.
The manuscript stayed in Persia until the early twentieth century. In Europe it was broken up by the dealer George Demotte, who sold leaves as freestanding works. In that market a full page of painting was easier to place than a heavy two-volume epic, and the book was treated accordingly. Many pages were altered to look more complete or more saleable once separated from their neighbours. The result is that the object known today as the Great Mongol Shahnameh — also called the Demotte Shahnameh or the Great Ilkhanid Shahnama — exists as individual pages distributed across collections, including the Freer Gallery of Art, the Department of Islamic Arts of the Louvre, the British Museum, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. One inventory number attached to the group is Per 111.
Because the leaves are large, closely worked, and now isolated, each museum page tends to be read as a picture first and as part of a book second. That is an accident of modern dispersal. In the 1330s the paintings answered the verses beside them, and the verses carried a continuous royal narrative. Recovering that continuity means reading across institutions, and accepting that some joins, some losses, and some later repairs will never be fully settled.
Why it mattered then
For an Ilkhanid court in the early fourteenth century, a Shahnameh of this ambition did several kinds of work at once. It affirmed mastery of Persian literary culture after a century of Mongol rule. It offered a gallery of kingship — just and unjust, triumphant and doomed — at a moment when the dynasty itself was weakening. And it tested what court painting could do on a page large enough for crowded battlefields, intimate grief, and ceremonial stillness without reducing the poem to a caption. Whether or not the two volumes were ever closed and delivered, the project shows a ruling house investing in the epic of the land it governed, in the visual idiom of that land, just as its own political horizon narrowed.
Why it matters now
The manuscript still matters because it is a major witness to early Persian book painting and because its broken state forces honest questions about how we see such witnesses. No single museum can show the book as a book; the work has to be understood across collections and through the damage of the art market. That dispersal is not a side note. It shapes what can be said about workshop practice, about the order of scenes, and about how text and image once shared a opening. The leaves also keep in view a precise historical bargain: Mongol patrons, Persian epic, and painters working at the edge of a dynasty’s life. For anyone tracking how empires borrow the stories of the places they rule, or how dealers and museums reframe sacred and courtly books as portable masterpieces, these pages remain active evidence rather than closed treasure.
The surprising detail
The book that defines a high point of fourteenth-century Persian manuscript painting does not exist as a book. Its modern identity was fixed by a dealer’s decision to cut it up. George Demotte’s name still clings to it — the Demotte Shahnameh — so the act of dispersal is built into one of the titles scholars use. Many leaves were altered after separation, which means some of what looks like medieval design is partly twentieth-century intervention. The object is famous both for what the painters did and for what the market later undid.
What is disputed
The original form of the book was never properly recorded before it was broken up. Plans of about two hundred and eighty folios and one hundred and ninety illustrations, in two volumes, are scholarly reconstructions, and it is thought the manuscript was never completed. Sequence, missing subjects, and the exact degree of later tampering on individual leaves remain open to revision as dispersed pages are compared.
How it got here
The manuscript remained in Persia until the early twentieth century. In Europe the dealer George Demotte dismantled it and sold leaves separately; many were significantly altered in that process. Surviving pages are now divided among collections that include the Freer Gallery of Art, the Louvre’s Department of Islamic Arts, the British Museum, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The dispersal is the condition under which the work is studied and displayed, not a fully reversible episode.
Remember this
A court Shahnameh of about 1330, planned on a grand scale, left unfinished, then cut into leaves whose scattered state now frames how the work can be read.
Test yourself
Why does calling this work a single “manuscript” both help and mislead once the leaves entered modern collections?
It helps because the leaves were designed as one continuous Shahnameh project — shared scale, epic text, and court context around 1330 — so comparing them as parts of a whole is historically right. It misleads because the bound book was dismantled by George Demotte; many pages were tampered with for sale; and the survivors now hang or store as independent objects in several museums. The unity is real in origin and partial in survival. Reading any one leaf well means holding both facts at once: it belongs to a planned book, and that book no longer exists as a physical volume.
Go deeper
- Great Mongol Shahnameh · Wikipedia
- Great Mongol Shahnameh — Wikidata · Wikidata
- Great Mongol Shahnameh — collection record · metmuseum.org
Image: anonymous, Public domain. Licence: Public domain. Source.
