Personal Life and Death
Kuznetsova's first husband was Nikolai Albertovich Benois, the son of watercolorist Albert Nikolayevich Benois (1852–1936).
After the death of Benois, Kuznetsova wed Jules Massenet's nephew, the banker and industrialist Alfred Massenet. Alfred had worked for a time in the Russian Empire, prior to the Revolution, as the president of the Société d'Industrie Minière de Chagali-Heliar, a French copper mining company headquartered in Tbilisi, Georgia.
Kuznetsova's last years were spent in poverty; she lived in one room in a small hotel off the Champs Elysees, abandoned by her son Mikhael and her former colleagues and friends. Kuznetsova's sole companion was her dresser Olga and she supported herself by giving lessons in singing and acting. Olga used to recount how Chaliapin died in Kuznetsova's arms, against the wishes of his wife.
Kuznetsova died in Paris on April 25, 1966.
Read more about this topic: Maria Kuznetsova
Famous quotes containing the words personal, life and/or death:
“Take two kids in competition for their parents’ love and attention. Add to that the envy that one child feels for the accomplishments of the other; the resentment that each child feels for the privileges of the other; the personal frustrations that they don’t dare let out on anyone else but a brother or sister, and it’s not hard to understand why in families across the land, the sibling relationship contains enough emotional dynamite to set off rounds of daily explosions.”
—Adele Faber (20th century)
“Young men of the fairest promise, who begin life upon our shores, inflated by the mountain winds, shined upon by all the stars of God, find the earth below not in unison with these,—but are hindered from action by the disgust which the principles on which business is managed inspire, and turn drudges, or die of disgust,—some of them suicides.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“For in the word death
There is nothing to grasp; nothing to catch or claim;
Nothing to adapt the skill of the heart to, skill
In surviving, for death it cannot survive,
Only resign the irrecoverable keys.
The wave falters and drowns. The coulter of joy
Breaks. The harrow of death
Depends. And there are thrown up waves.”
—Philip Larkin (1922–1986)