Lesa Cline-Ransome - Before There Was Mozart: The Story of Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de Saint-George

Text copyright 2011 by Lesa Cline-Ransome
Illustrations copyright 2011 by James E. Ransome
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Schwartz & Wade Books, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

Schwartz & Wade Books and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Visit us on the Web! randomhouse.com/kids
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at randomhouse.com/teachers

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cline-Ransome, Lesa.
Before there was Mozart : the story of Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de Saint-George / Lesa Cline-Ransome; illustrated by James E. Ransome.1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-98249-0
1. Saint-Georges, Joseph Bologne, chevalier de, 17451799Juvenile literature.
2. MusiciansFranceBiographyJuvenile literature.
3. Racially mixed peopleFranceBiographyJuvenile literature.
4. NobilityFranceBiographyJuvenile literature. I. Ransome, James E., ill. II. Title.
ML3930.S13C65 2011
780.92dc22
[B]
2008048825

The illustrations in this book were rendered in mixed media.
Book design by Rachael Cole

Random House Childrens Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

v3.1

For Jeanette Peterson

Thanks for bringing the life of Saint-George into our home, our lives and our art. L.C.-R.

Thanks for introducing me to Saint-George and being my right (and sometimes my left) hand. J.E.R.

Tropical winds blew across the sugar plantation of Guillaume-Pierre Tavernier de Boullongne. It was Christmas morning 1739, on one of the tiny islands of Guadeloupe in the West Indies, and through her open window, Nanon could hear the beating of drums and the strains of song. She knew that the slaves in their quarters were enjoying their own celebrations, away from the watchful eye of their master.

But Guillaume-Pierre had little interest in the holiday preparations of his slaves. He was anxiously awaiting the birth of his first child.

At last, Nanon gave birth to a baby boy with skin the color of nutmeg. He would be named Joseph, the priest decided, because he was born on Christmas Day.

Nanon closed her eyes in a prayer of thanks as she heard the midwife predict, One day this boy will meet the king and queen of France! Then, drifting off to sleep to the rhythm of the drums, Nanon dreamed of homeSenegal, in Africa, from which she had been stolen not so long ago.

By the time he was six, Joseph would wake up early to join his father on rounds of the plantation. Joseph played with other slave children, but he was not one of them. The only child of a slave and her master, he did not have to labor in the fields. Instead, he loved walking the land and naming each flower and tree he passed. Before the heat of the afternoon set in, Joseph would climb the banks of the River Pre to play among the silk-cotton and pawpaw trees overlooking the Caribbean Sea.

You are not a son, but a sparrow! teased his father as he watched Joseph fly from one activity to the next.

When Nanon went into the town of Basse-Terre for her afternoon errands, Joseph would cry, Please, Maman, take me with you. And Nanon would give in and help her boy climb into the carriage.

Basse-Terre had a vibrant port crammed with open markets, outdoor cafs and taverns. Music sailed in with the royal vessels from France that were loaded up with cargoes of sugar, coffee and cocoa; or petits blancs, poor whites coming to work as servants and craftsmen; or slaves arriving from Africa. The narrow streets and alleyways swelled with music from around the globe, and Joseph listened to all of itthe hymns of church bells, the banjos, the popular tunes sung by local whites as they moved through the crowded streets. Joseph would hum all the way home.

Monsieur Plato, the Boullongne plantations overseer, was used to giving orders. He wore many hats on the plantationbookkeeper, actor, storyteller.

He was also Josephs tutor, ending each lesson with violin practice. With one hand, Joseph carefully found each noteA B C D A B C Das his other hand learned to send the bow gliding across the strings like a boat across water.

As the slaves came in from the fields, music would begin down in the quarters. It usually started out softly and gained momentum as the evening wore on. Though Joseph slept with his mother in the main house, he still listened for the familiar beats echoing in the distance.

When he was nine, Joseph made his last trip to the cane and cocoa fields, and wandered one last time down to the River Pre. His father, like many French nobles who had ventured to Guadeloupe to make their fortunes and return to Paris wealthy men, was ready to head home. Tomorrow they would set sail for Paris. Paris will open its doors for you, Guillaume-Pierre had told Joseph time and again. You must be sure to take advantage of all it has to offer.

As they boarded the ship, Nanon held tightly to her sons hand. She stared into a future free from slavery, while Joseph looked back at the only home hed ever known. Then Joseph took out his violin and began to play as they sailed across the wide Atlantic Ocean.

Paris raced by in a busy blur. There were grand buildings, elaborate horse-drawn carriages and more people than Joseph had ever seen! Many blacks worked the same jobs as whites, as coachmen and servants.

Now free, Nanon relished living a life that was, at long last, truly her own. Guillaume-Pierre settled her into an apartment in Montmartre, a village on the outskirts of Paris.