The life-story of Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges reads like an Alexandre Dumas tale. Born on Christmas Day 1745 to a planter and an African slave in Guadeloupe, he was renowned during his lifetime as much for his fencing ability as for his musicianship. Predominantly based in Paris, he travelled widely in Europe, performed in London and towards the end of his life returned to the Caribbean. His violin virtuosity was such that he led some of Paris’s most important orchestras; he founded the Concert de la Loge Olympique, with which he led the first performances of Haydn’s ‘Paris’ Symphonies – works whose commission he also handled.

His compositional output is not prodigious but gives some idea of his prowess: some early violin concertos reveal a rare facility in high hand positions and a delight in the opportunities offered by developments in instrument and bow construction. The four symphonies concertantes presented here were published during the second half of the 1770s and delight in the sweetness of a pair of fiddles playing in thirds above the stave. Each is in two movements, with an opening Allegro followed by a lighter and shorter Rondeau; the F major work (Op 10 No 1) replaces the rondeau with another Allegro, to slightly more discursive and weighty effect.

The listener is most put in mind of Haydn’s early concertos, or the ‘Times of Day’ Symphonies he composed at the outset of his long Esterházy employment. Saint-Georges’s muse is predominantly lyrical but none of this music is actually slow; even in the slight but charming G major Symphony the central movement is Andante rather than adagio or largo. The driver of the music is principally melodic, with the soloists primarily treated as co-conspirators rather than conversational partners, as in Mozart’s violin-and-viola Sinfonia concertante, K364, composed around the same time. Saint-Georges is less concerned about motivic development or emotional depth than Mozart, although the first movement of the A major work (Op 9 No 2) feints at more momentous ambitions in some dramatic minor-key writing.

All three soloists acquit themselves admirably in this music, which is surely more challenging for the players than for its listeners, and Michael Halász fields a well-disciplined band, based in Pardubice, about 100km east of Prague. Allan Badley, the doyen the music of these 18th-century Kleinmeister, provides expert annotations and the cover reproduces the striking Mather Brown portrait of the composer with his rapier drawn.