The first dramatic work done by Belasco, after he had dismissed “The Wife,” was a revision of a drama called “She,” made by William H. Gillette on the basis of Rider Haggard’s novel of that name. This was produced, November 29, 1887, at Niblo’s Garden, New York, by Isaac B. Rich and Al. Hayman.

The signal talent of Haggard is not well displayed in “She,”—in which the tone is sensual and the literary art inferior, and in which, indeed, it can fairly be said that the author has collected materials and outlined a plan for a work of fiction, rather than that he has adequately utilized his materials and plan. There is in it little indication of distinctive intellectual character or of scrutinizing artistic revision, and, although contemporary with both Worcester’s and Webster’s “Unabridged,” the writer frequently informs his readers that words are wanting to describe the objects he has undertaken to portray. “She,” therefore, notwithstanding that it contains attributes of merit, is, as Haggard left it, a verbose and chaotic narrative, presenting the apotheosis of woman as a handsome animal. The story, however, presents melodramatic points tributary to situation and several of those points were utilized for stage presentment and invested with picturesque scenery. The play begins with a shipwreck on the coast of Africa. “Set waves” swung on obvious cordage. A “profile” boat went to pieces on a rock. Lightnings flashed. A quantity of real water was projected into the air. And a band of adventurous seekers after the inscrutable and awful female personality known as She were rescued, to pass through manifold adventures, including encounters with African cannibals and terminating with a quest for the Fire of Life, in which, when found, the mystical Princess was destroyed. Particular recital of the incidents of the stage adaptation is not requisite here: the novel, extraordinarily popular in its day, is still accessible to the curious. The form adopted by Gillette in framing his histrionic synopsis of the book is that of genuine, old-fashioned melodrama,—the form of theatrical spectacle interblended with music that was in fashion a century ago. There is an opening chorus. African savages, auxiliary to the proceedings, chant. The heroine woos her favorite in a melodious adjuration, and bursts into song on her lover’s breast. Music is introduced in the most unlikely places. Even the cannibals utter their stomachs in harmonious howls, preparatory to a feast on the flesh of man. “She,” as adapted by Gillette, was in part reconstructed and improved by Belasco, to whom such curious fabrics of more or less ridiculous spectacle had been familiar in his early days and who readily rectified its technical defects. “It was simply a matter of curtailing and readjusting,” he afterward wrote; “when the scenes and situations were rehearsed again it was found that we had a very good play”: the accuracy of the latter statement, of course, depends on the standard of merit applied in determining what constitutes a “good play.” Belasco did not revise “She” until near the end of the New York engagement, that is, about the middle of December, 1887. The play was transferred from New York to the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, and there, and elsewhere in the country, it was prosperously presented.