Gabrielli sang in various cities of Italy for several years more, still
retaining her hold on the hearts of her countrymen. In 1780 she finally
retired from the stage and began to live a regular and orderly life,
though still extravagant and lavish in her indulgence both of freaks of
luxury and generosity. During her residence at Rome the noblesse of
that city held her in high esteem, and her concerts gathered the most
distinguished and wealthy people. Her prodigality had considerably
reduced her income, and when she retired from her profession it amounted
to little more than twenty thousand francs. The state in which Gabrielli
had lived suited a princess of the blood rather than an operatic singer.
Her traveling retinue included a little army of servants and couriers,
and, both at home and at the theatre, she exacted the respect which was
rather the due of some royal personage. A Florentine nobleman paid her
a visit one day, and tore one of his ruffles by catching in some part of
her dress. Gabrielli the next day, to make amends, sent him six bottles
of Spanish wine, with the costliest rolls of Flanders lace stuffed into
the mouths of the bottles instead of corks. But, if she was extravagant
and luxurious, she was also generous; and, in spite of the cruel
caprices which had marked her life, she always gave tokens of a
naturally kind heart. She gave largely to charity, and provided
liberally for her parents, as also for her brother's education. Of this
brother, who appeared at the Teatro Argentina in Rome as a tenor,
but who sang as wretchedly as his sister did exquisitely, an amusing
anecdote is narrated. The audience began to hoot and hiss, and yells of
"Get out, you raven!" sounded through the house. With great _sang-froid_
the unlucky singer said: "You fancy you are mortifying me by hooting me;
you are grossly deceived; on the contrary, I applaud your judgment, for
I solemnly declare that I never appear on any stage without receiving
the same treatment, and sometimes worse."