From a scandalous threesome to classical stardom: the actress who found redemption in Handel’s Messiah

• Listen on the podcast | Handel's Messiah: the scandalous birth of a classical masterpiece

On the night it debuted as part of a concert to raise funds for the poor, perhaps no one better personified this narrative of suffering and redemption better than one woman central to the work’s debut: Susannah Cibber.

Everyone knew intimately these quite embarrassing details of her sexual life

Cibber was a celebrated actress and contralto, who gained a name for herself in the mid-18th century for her remarkable stage presence. But by the time she arrived in Dublin, she was infamous for another reason: a scandalous court case that had laid bare the intimate details of her personal life.

As Messiah debuted, “she was notorious,” explains historian Charles King on the HistoryExtra podcast. “Everyone knew intimately these quite embarrassing details of her sexual life.”

The rise and fall of Susannah Cibber

Born Susannah Arne in 1714, she was raised in the Covent Garden area of London, which by the early 18th century was an area famous for its theatres and music halls.

Though her father and grandfather were upholsterers by trade, a musical vein ran through her family. Her elder brother, Thomas Arne, would later compose Rule, Britannia!, and another brother also trained as an actor and singer. Though she sang from an early age, Susannah was never taught to read music (Handel would later coach her through her singing parts note by note).

Susannah would soon find her calling in the theatre, making her debut in 1732, at the age of 18, in John Frederick Lampe’s Amelia, based on a drama by satirist Henry Carey.

Though her singing was noted by some for a lack of polish, “she had this power on stage to make an audience feel something,” says King.

Writing on the impact of Cibber’s performances in the 19th-century Annals of the English Stage, one Dr Doran recorded how “for 14 consecutive nights Susannah drowned houses in tears, and stirred the very depths of men’s hearts”.

A sensational trial

Susannah had gained a name for herself on the stage, and her 1734 marriage to Theophilus Cibber, a fellow actor and prominent theatre manager, was meant to cement her status as one half of a power couple in the theatrical world.

Instead, it became a source of misery. Theophilus was a reckless spendthrift who was known to “sleep his way around the cast”, says King. He also reportedly misappropriated Susannah's earnings and sold her personal belongings to satisfy his debts.

Theophilus began orchestrating liaisons between his wife and wealthy young men for his own financial gain

Perhaps most shockingly, Theophilus began orchestrating liaisons between his wife and wealthy young men for his own financial gain.

One of these men was William Sloper, a squire and the son of a wealthy MP. Sloper began to lodge with the couple, and then reportedly began an affair with Susannah at Theophilus’s behest, paying for the privilege.

“Susannah fell in love with Sloper,” King recounts, suggesting that Sloper perhaps saw himself as someone who could rescue Cibber from her torrid marriage.

It wasn’t to be. Instead, the affair between Susannah and Sloper led to a sensational court case when Theophilus sued Sloper for “alienation of affection”, a legal means of seeking damages for a wife’s infidelity.

The trial became one of the biggest scandals of the era, partly, King explains, because they centred on “the private life of an acting couple – very public figures – and the wealthy son of a parliamentarian”.

“There’s a threesome involved,” King notes. “This is big news.”

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The courtroom drama, fuelled by prurient gossip, saw Susannah’s name dragged through the mud. The proceedings were transcribed and widely sold, often accompanied by lurid illustrations, and she became a symbol of public disgrace.

Faced with humiliation and social exile, Susannah disappeared from the stage for three years.

Though little is known of her life in this interlude, she resurfaced in Dublin in 1941 – just in time for the first performance of Handel's Messiah in 1942.

An invitation for redemption

Handel was himself in a precarious position by the late 1730s. Though he was the most famous composer in Britain, his career had stalled.

“There was a little bit of a sense that this was the stage of his career when he should start doing his ‘greatest hits’ tour,” King observes. But financial troubles, changing musical tastes, and declining health had left the famed German searching for a new direction. An invitation to stage a series of subscription concerts in Dublin provided him with an opportunity to reinvigorate his career.

With him, he carried the manuscript of a new oratorio: Messiah. It was a work composed to a set of verses by a man named Charles Jennens, a deeply religious person who saw the work as an act of devotion.

Yet Handel was not particularly religious himself. “We have to dispense with the idea of Handel in a fit of religious inspiration composing Messiah,” King explains. Instead, the composer approached the piece as a theatrical event – one that required compelling voices to bring it to life.

Despite her scandal-ridden reputation, Handel turned to none other than Susannah Cibber to be one of his soloists. He had worked with her years before, when she had appeared in a minor role in one of his compositions – but this time, she would be at the heart of his new work.

Did Handel select Susannah in order to court publicity? It’s plausible, as King notes. “It’s certainly something – if not a scandal – that audiences would have noted,” King says. “She was notorious by this stage.”

The first performance

The performance on 13 April 1742 was unlike any other. The venue, Neal’s New Musick Hall, was not a grand cathedral but a modest concert hall on Fishamble Street, Dublin. It was not held for personal profit or royal patronage, but to raise money for local charities.

It drew an overflowing audience – so large, in fact, that women were asked to attend without their hoop skirts to make room. Many were surely present to witness the voice of the now notorious Susannah Cibber.

When she stepped forward to sing the lyrics written by Jennens – “He was despised, and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” – the significance of Cibber’s position in a work that sang of redemption was not lost, says King.

“Anyone in the audience could have done the gender switch for themselves,” he explains. “She was a person of sorrows. She was acquainted with grief.”

Throughout the performance, people were quiet. That would have been very unusual in a theatre of this time

The emotional impact was profound. “We know from a later account that the audience behaved very unusually,” King says. “Throughout the performance, people were quiet. That would have been very unusual in a theatre of this time.”

One respected clergyman in the audience, Dr Patrick Delany, was reportedly so moved by Cibber’s performance, that he jumped to his feet, overcome with emotion, and is said to have exclaimed: “Woman, for this, be all thy sins forgiven!”

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At that moment, Susannah Cibber was no longer the woman at the centre of a scandal; she was the voice of redemption, embodying the very essence of Messiah’s message of suffering and salvation.

“People sensed the connection between the redemption of this individual and the redemptive message of the text,” says King.

Susannah Cibber’s legacy

The Dublin premiere of Messiah was a triumph, setting the stage for its enduring place in the western canon of classical music.

For many, to this day, explains King, the power of Handel’s Messiah lies in its spiritual depth, emotional range, and “universal message of hope and redemption”, forever linked with Cibber’s own resurgence.

Over time, the work has transcended its original context to become a cultural and seasonal tradition, especially tied to Christmas.

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“Messiah is so much a part of the holiday season that it’s always there in the background,” King muses. “But its earliest audiences thought of it as a species of music like no other.”

As for Cibber, she would go on to become one of the most celebrated actresses of her time, commanding the highest salary of any female performer and earning accolades from critics and audiences alike. For this Georgian actor, Messiah was not just another performance – it was a second chance.