[3] According to a popular legend recorded at the beginning of the 20th century, the Sardar Palace was built around 1600 by the Safavid hero Arus, his sons Zorab and Faramos, and his daughter, the evil sorceress, Luthera.

[4] According to literary data, it is known that the Sardar Palace's walls of the Mirrored Hall were richly decorated with ornamental and thematic compositions.

On the first, Rustam hits a young warrior with a dagger, on the second he tears his clothes, learning that he has killed his son Zohrab; on the third – he pulls the enemy off the horse; on the fourth – he wins the diva and breaks his horns.

According to the description of the eyewitnesses, in the palace, there was also depicted "a comic picture of an old man being kind to a young girl who serves him a glass of wine".

Judging by the sketches of the Russian artists V. Moshkov and G. Gagarin, who visited this palace in the first half of the 19th century, and by to the descriptions of other travelers, these portraits were distinguished by their liveliness and great similarity, although in general, they also wore a decorative, somewhat a conditional character.

In the entire height of the site, from the side of the river, there was a huge wooden window with a frame of openwork with multi-colored glass inserted.

[9] In 1827, in one of the palace's rooms, Alexander Griboyedov took part in the production of his comedy the "Grief from the Mind" performed by the officers of the Russian army.

The inscription on the palace's wall left by an unknown author: So here it is, the monument to a past greatness The Mirror motley Hall, the judgment seat of people.

Magically reflected on the mirrored walls The lit lights from all around, And the marble fountain pulled like a cold stream, As a cascade fell, in silver granulation.

Murmuring mysteriously, magnificently dispersing, Glittering, iridescent as an enchanting fire ... Now everything is here dead, the loud talk is no more heard, As wondrous key, the life-giving stream does not pour.

The scary portraits of long ago past centuries, Gaze thoughtfully from the ruined walls At midnight their shadows, like those of the air nymphs On silent marble slabs Sadly... are heard... Sardar's proud palace as a statue stands Cold marble... Fast on Zangu... She still winds as a wide ribbon, Glitters like a snake with silvery scales, And forever young, playful, rushes To a distant land in a brilliant wave.

He, Sardar, the great son of Islam, The king of Erivan, formidable scourge of people, Now voiceless spirit of dwellings, graves with no glory A wandering shadow in the silence of the nights [4].