Portrait of a Child Actress

Iris Hawkins was born at Newmarket in Cambridgeshire on 19th april, 1893, the daughter of theatrical parents, Percy Lane Hawkins and his wife Ethel. She was home educated by her parents and prepared for the stage by her mother, making her professional stage debut as a child actress at the age of ten years - playing a fairy in "The Cricket on the Hearth" at the Garrick Theatre. She played principal fairy in "The Fairy's Dilemma" and the title role in "Little White Barbara" at the same theatre. She played her first "boy" role - and scored her first major success - as Mickey in "Everybody's Secret" at the Haymarket in March, 1905 and rose to even greater prominence when she created the role of Derek in the long-running "His House in Order" which opened at the St. James in February, 1906, and ran for over 400 performances.

She continued on the stage as an adult actress although she never grew beyond her childhood physique - at the age of twenty still weighing only 69lbs (31 kilos) and barely four feet in height. Consequently, she was largely limited to 'small' roles, often playing young boys or appearing in fairy plays where her diminutive figure only added to the magic - as the following quote suggests:

Reproduced below are two articles from the early years of Miss Hawkins stage career.

(The Daily Mail [London, UK] - 16th March, 1905)
CHILD ACTRESS'S TRIUMPH
CONGRATULATIONS SHOWERED ON MISS IRIS HAWKINS

A very small, pink-cheeked lady, in short white socks, extremely diminutive boy's knickerbockers, and with brown curls which rather declined to be put away under a boy's wig, stood in a dressing-room at the Haymarket Theatre, and bowed politely as a Daily Mail representative came in to congratulate her on a new triumph.

Miss Hawkins is a celebrity since the production of "Everybody's Secret" at the Haymarket on Tuesday - an eleven-year-old, entertaining, and altogether unconscious celebrity. Nearly a score of interyiewers called upon her yesterday at the flat where she lives with her mother, and as she stood at her dressing-table last night she was opening and reading telegrams, with a look of grave, hopeful wonder, as though at any moment, in spite of dull, past experience, a toy snake might be expected to jump out of one of them.

At last came one letter addressed to "Master I. Hawkins," and the small, pink face lighted up with laughter. "But I do like being here very much, said "Mickey," when she had agreed that most of the congratulations were rather absurd. "I have a lovely dressing-room, and a nice part, and everyone here is nice to me. But I have to tuck the lucky necklace Mr. Gilbert gave me after I had played in his 'Fairy's Dilemma' inside my clothes, because a boy can't wear a necklace, and I wouldn't go on without it.

"Afterwards I was in 'The Cricket on the Hearth,' and then in 'Little White Barbara' at the Garrick, and it was great fun acting there. And I loved Mrs. Bourchier's baby." "Where did I begin to act? I don't remember. It was in the country somewhere. It hurts having ones hair twisted up to be put under a wig."

Miss Iris Hawkins, who began to go to school when she was four, and has been studying sternly ever since, is a learned small-person, but with much laughter in her and delight in her stage life. Her mother's resolute determination that she shall hear no nonsense about herself is likely to be useful to her during the run of "Everybody's Secret."

The Daily Mail (London) - 10th February, 1906
THE FUN OF BEING A BOY
MISS IRIS HAWKINS, THE REMARKABLE CHILD ACTRESS, TELLS OF HER SUCCESSES

AT the stage-door of the St. James's Theatre the writer waited till Miss Iris Hawkins, the child actress, should be free from her wilful, cheeky, charming little existence as Derek, the enfant terrible in Mr. Pinero's new play. At last there came little boy in a pink cloak, who, with a graceful bow, invited him to come up, and tripped lightly up the stairs ahead. He ushered him into a dressing-room, where there was no sign whatever of Miss Iris Hawkins.

Then, with the dignity of an experienced actress, the little boy regretted that he had only a few minutes before the call for the next act, and settled himself with a smile to answer questions. It was Derek himself. And so as Derek Miss Hawkins had to be interviewed, for even near at hand she looks the most natural little boy of seven ever seen.

"Oh, thank you." be said, "it is a perfectly lovely part, such a long one, and I am on a great part of the time, and it is a lovely play, much stronger than anything I have acted in before. You know. I love acting. I have always wanted to ever since I can remember, and I like everything about it - from learning my part to the longest rehearsal. I even like making up - though my hair is squeezed up horribly."

Derek was sitting sideways with a roguish child's face perched on his arms as he looked over the back of the chair, but the voice and easy manner were those of a charmingly-mannered little lady. It was hard to repress a smile. But at last he grew more confidential. "I love being Derek, you know. He is such a precocious child. Well, what shall I say? He is such a wicked little - Oh! I must not say that. But I liked being Mickey best of all. I could go on playing Mickey for ever, and then when I stopped I should like to act Miss Jessie Bateman's part." Mickey was the charming little boy who played with trains and his grandpapa, Mr. Cyril Maude, at the Haymarket last year.

Miss Hawkins, by the way, has an autograph album where many a famous actor and actress, whose name has appeared near hers in a programme, has written a kindly message to their child comrade, and it contains an entry by Mr. Cyril Maude "from her little old grandfather, Cyril Maude."

"I loved being Mickey, and I loved playing with Mr. Maude - but I like being Derek, too. I made my own part; mother helped me, and then Mr. Pinero made suggestions." Anyone who has seen the exquisite naturalness of Derek's manner when he is doing nothing will realise what a clever little actress she is. "Have you seen the necklace which Mr. Gilbert gave me? I never go on the stage without it, though it has to be out of sight when I am Derek."

The necklace has three lucky sixpences hung on a fine chain, bearing an inscription that it was presented to Iris in "A Fairy's Dilemma." Just then the call-boy came in with the aged bag in which are discovered the fatal letters, in the third act, and a warning for the beginners. "You see," broke in Mrs. Hawkins, "Iris is just an ordinary little girl, who happens to be clever. To be clever - and to have fascinating manners - and to be a born actress, but otherwise an ordinary little girl. She has never suffered from nervousness - well, except once, when she had an attack of stage fright, and forgot every word in the first act. But once she caught her foot in a bolt and wrencned her ankle when on the stage."

"I just screamed, I suppose," answered Derek, reproachfully "but it was only an amateur performance."

But Mrs. Hawkins is very proud of her ordinary little girl, and she whispered of a play which Derek indignantly declared had been burnt. It was a youthful indiscretion, no doubt, but it had been privately performed, I was assured. It was about a naughty little schoolgirl, who was more clever than her mistresses - but this, perhaps, is a breach of confidence. At any rate, it is burnt.

There is another quality little Miss Hawkins shares with the great ones of the earth, and she frankly admits it. She hates being interviewed. It is a terrible ordeal at the age of eleven to decide what you really do like and dislike, and combine honesty with appearances. Although she is fond of reading, and pursues plays even into the tomes of Shakespeare, Derek off the stage shares the tastes of Derek on. He loves animals and the open-air. He rides a bicycle and rides a horse, he drives, he plays anything - except the piano, which she regards with a cordial dislike, and neglects as often as may be.

There is one vague sorrow, however, in his existence. When people see him on the stage and fall in love, they sometimes send him a token of their fervent admiration. Unfortunately, they invariably send chocolates - just as if he were a little girl. Chocolates have occasionally stormed the theatre in packets and boxes and trolleyloads. But, strangely, Derek has a strictly limited appetite for chocolates. Flowers or little fluffy dogs, or as Mr. Alexander suggests in the play, white mice or guineapigs, would be much more exciting in bulk.

In spite of her age, Miss Iris Hawkins is a very serious little actress, whose whole heart has been lost to the theatre. When she is not on the stage she condescends to go among the audience - anything rather than stay away. At the same time she is just an ordinary little girl - and a marvellous imitation of a seven year-old boy. She has won many friends in London during the last three years in "Little White Barbara," and "The Fairy's Dilemma," and "Every body's Secret," and she has several very kind letters from Miss Ellen Terry, which are treasured in a little cabinet. There are hundreds of little admirers who send love letters. There is even a little poet of twelve who forwards verses on the production of a new play to Miss Iris Hawkins.