Campanini, she created a lead in the posthumous first production of Michael Balfe's Il Talismano. A minor role in that production was created by a young baritone Giovanni de Reschi, who in the same year made his English debuts at Drury Lane in La favorita (Alfonso), as Don Giovanni, as Valentine (Faust), and as Count Almaviva. Returning to his vocal studies, he reappeared in Paris as a tenor in 1884, and became known to the world as Jean de Reszke. Until 1872, she and "Madame Rudersdorff" had been the joint 'queens' of the English oratorio platform, but in that year her friend and rival left to continue her career in the United States. Tietjens then reigned alone. In 1876, however, she visited North America, among other things performing the part of Lucrezia Borgia at the Astor Opera House in New York City opposite the tenor Pasquale Brignoli. This was to prove the last major episode in her extraordinary career. Her great roles had been Lucrezia, Leonora, Norma, Medea, and Donna Anna. In addition to other parts mentioned, she sang Fides in Le prophète and the eponymous lead in Semiramide. The great Adelina Patti (to lyric sopranos what Tietjens was to the dramatic variety) would refrain from adding Semiramide to own repertoire until after the death of Tietjens, out of respect for her immense distinction in the role. Illness, farewell and death Late in her life Mme Tietjens developed cancer, which caused her much pain, and she died at the age of 46. By this stage, she had become a sort of British institution, and under Sir Michael Costa she sang many performances of Handel's Messiah and Mendelssohn's Elijah—both works dear to the taste of London concert-goers. She also grew extremely large: in 1920, the veteran American baritone David Bispham could recall her appearance but not her voice. Shaw, in 1892, remembered how her performances of Lucrezia, of Semiramide, Valentine, Pamina and her Countess had established a sort of belief that all these characters must have been extremely overweight. Despite her bearing, her intelligence, her great art and her goodhearted grace, he remembered a voice that had become stale and a genius that had ceased to be creative. The public had got used to going to see her, not the roles she performed. She had become loved for her private virtues as much as for her artistic gifts. Herman Klein, who