Organized by the Met, “‘Treasury of the World’: Jeweled Arts of India in the Age of the Mughals,” opened in Britain, then went to New York with its 300 spectacular jeweled objects from India’s Mughal period (1526-1858). (It travels next to Cleveland, Ohio; Houston, Texas, and St. Louis, Missouri.) The exhibit’s title is taken from a 1616 letter to Prince Charles (later King Charles I) from Sir Thomas Roe, English ambassador to the Delhi court, describing the Emperor Jahangir: “In jewells (which is one of his felicityes) he is the treasury of the world.” For three decades that treasury has been in the Kuwait National Museum’s extensive al-Sabah Collection. Removed during the gulf war and transported in metal trunks to the Iraq Museum in Baghdad, it was recovered with the United Nations’ help.

What the Met has showcased is a glittering visual smorgasbord: rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds and pearls all set in the purest 24-karat gold, using an ancient and innovative Indian technique called kundan, which eliminates the need for heating and hammering. Jewelers are thus freed to create intricate designs in bracelets, necklaces, rings and hair and turban ornaments; swords, scabbards, daggers and other objects of daily use such as cups and boxes. Stylistically, the decorative patterns echo the vines, flowers, animals and calligraphic swirls found in other media such as Persian and Indian miniatures, monumental architecture with its delicate inlay work (the most famous example being the marble interiors of the Taj Mahal), and antique Indian and Persian carpets. Not surprisingly, these classical influences survive in today’s Oriental rugs and in metalwork from the Middle East and South Asia.

But many of the pieces in the exhibit are more than beautiful baubles. There are the gems–duck-egg-size emeralds and ruby-like spinels–that are hand-engraved with diamond styluses and inscribed with the names of their various owners, hailing from different dynasties and far-flung regions. There are pieces passed down from one great Mughal emperor to the next, memorializing each as a connoisseur of art. These carved gems derive their value not from their beauty but from their archeological and historical significance.

A parallel show, “Glass of the Sultans,” organized by the Metropolitan Museum and the Corning Museum of Glass, in Corning, N.Y., offers 160 magnificent pieces of handblown glass from all over Egypt, Syria, Iraq, Iran and India. (It travels next to Athens.) Organized by technique and arranged chronologically, the exhibit’s stunning examples of hand-painted, relief-cut, engraved and mosaic glass reflect the varied techniques employed by Islamic glassmakers who inspired European craftsmen–and were, in turn, influenced by them. Perfectly preserved pieces that date back as far as the eighth and ninth centuries give way to the brilliant jewel-colored 19th-century Persian and Indian glass and finally, Islamic-inspired Venetian glass.

Such artistically decorated glass was popular not only among the Mughals but in the Ottoman and Safavid empires as well. The rulers of these dynasties, known for their strong patronage of the arts, acquired imported works that influenced local production. Then, over the centuries, Islamic glassworkers introduced their own stylistic and technological innovations. Most of the designs are, like so much Islamic art, abstract, geometrical and colorful. Many pieces are hauntingly luminous.

The works in these exhibits speak of mature civilizations where art and beauty were raised to a spiritual level. They stem from self-assured societies that were open to other cultures, other ways of looking at the world without fear or mistrust. Did the September 11 attacks and the ensuing interest in Islam boost attendance at these shows? Navina Haidar, assistant curator of Islamic art at the Metropolitan, says, “September 11 may have brought people in initially, but once they are here, viewers get caught up in the works themselves.” Like all great art, the objects in these exhibits transform and transport their viewers–in this case, to the grand and exalted history of Islam.