Donald Sprinck FRCO ARCM
(1900 – 1985)
Master at Merchiston Castle School
(1946 – 1972)
Generations of Merchistonians still remember Donald Sprinck and there are many who owe to him their love of music – and so much more. Few can have predicted that a sensitive musician with a severe speech impediment would make such a unique mark at Merchiston. ‘God moves in a mysterious way’, as Donald would have been the first to admit and the mystery of all that Donald gave to Merchiston is worth exploring.
At the time of his appointment in 1946, few if any knew much of Donald Sprinck’s background. His father, Leon Sprinck, was a distinguished portrait painter from the Court of the Czar of Russia who fled to London before the revolution of 1917. Donald’s mother was a MacDonald from the Isle of Skye. She was also a professional artist who specialised in miniature portraiture, examples of which Donald and his sister still displayed in their Eastbourne homes. It was from his mother that Donald inherited his love of the highlands and Celtic music.
From his earliest days, Donald had shown great musical gifts. Not only did he have ‘perfect pitch’, but he could sight-read the most difficult accompaniment and transpose the key if required. At the Royal College of Music in London, Donald was awarded gold medals for both piano and organ.
It is hard to imagine how Donald coped with the London blitz and the enormities of total war. He moved home from London to Oxford and was appointed organist of St. Ebbe’s church, a lively Anglican church with a large student congregation.
Little is known of this time in Oxford, but Ken Houston unearthed this anecdote from a USA wartime record which I quote in full.
Cpl. Marshall Williams, a US GI serving in England, spent some of his free time in the American Red Cross Club in the Clarendon Hotel, Oxford. He wrote the following:
“One evening an Englishman was playing the piano, taking requests and playing from memory such pieces as ‘Boop, boop, dittum dattum wattum, choo’ (!), ‘Midnight Stomp’ and other such popular songs of the war. I raised my hand and asked if he could play ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’ from J S Bach’s Cantata 147. I thought he would jump off his stool, but he turned to me with a huge smile and began to play with such tenderness as I, a small town boy from the south of the US had never before heard. At the end of the piece, he asked me, in a very halting, stammering voice, if there was anything else I wanted to hear. Yes! And so for the rest of the evening, he played me classical music: Chopin, Handel, Beethoven – all from memory and in such a professional manner I was totally astonished. Not one time did he ask for any more requests except for mine.”
At the end of the evening, the GI went to thank the pianist for a wonderful recital and discovered that he had a very intense speech impediment, but he could sing without missing a syllable. He also learned that Donald was organist at St Ebbe’s Church, Oxford. That night was the beginning of a lifelong friendship between the GI Marshall Williams and Donald Sprinck, which lasted until Donald died in 1985.
From Oxford, Donald moved to Edinburgh. There is a real sense in which Donald’s appointment to Merchiston in 1946 was a homecoming. He loved Scotland, he loved Edinburgh, and he dedicated his life’s work to the school. No-one could have predicted how much a sensitive musician of great talent would enjoy the demands and variety of boarding school life. In a strange way, Donald and Merchiston complemented each other. The Headmaster at that time, C H Evans, believed that ‘much is expected of those to whom much is given’ and in no time he came to value Donald’s exceptional gifts which were freely shared with the school over the years.
Donald was a perfectionist without personal ambition and he shared his talents generously with all of us. Even small groups of junior boys were able to enjoy recitals from Donald that would have graced the Usher Hall. I can remember listening with two others to a performance of that most demanding work – Variations on a Theme of Paganini by Franz Liszt. What a privilege for a small boy.
Generations of Merchiston boys will have their own tale to tell and it is good news that Ian Lawson, Rod Paton, John Caithness and many others are sharing their memories. I have one particular anecdote:
It was teatime in the Masters’ Common Room when Donald appeared dressed formally in morning coat and white tie. “Are you giving a recital tonight, Donald?” I asked him. “Oh no, dear boy. Do you not know: today is Brahms’ birthday!”
Retirement was always going to be difficult for Donald and there is no doubt he missed Merchiston, but he discovered new horizons down in Eastbourne where he was able to continue playing at his church, All Saints’. The organist there, David Woodward, was the first to appreciate Donald’s gifts and it is a delight to all Donald’s old friends to hear that David has linked up with Ian Lawson and together they are arranging an event at Merchiston in May 2011 to commemorate Donald’s life and compositions.
Canon Gordon Rideout, who was vicar of All Saints’, Eastbourne at the time of Donald’s death in 1985, has sung the praises of Donald. He has shared this particular memory. Towards the end of Donald’s life, Gordon visited him in a nursing home:
“He was clearly very weak but amazingly, he wanted to talk about a range of things, especially about his love for Christ and how good God had been to him. At the end of my time, I prayed with him and very soon after, he stepped into glory. It was only as I walked back to the vicarage that I realised that Donald had not stammered once in the conversation. It was as though the healing and freedom of eternity had already dawned upon him. What a privilege to have known him.”
And so say all of us………
When I think of Donald, I still recall listening to his piano playing – the silence as the last note died away. Donald’s whole life was a song without words. It had a spiritual quality that was more than music and is still remembered as a light in our darkness.
Thanks be to God.
J W Donaldson.