Following the educational route of many learned, young women of her age, Cereta was sent to a convent for her early education where she learned reading, writing, embroidery, and the rudiments of Latin. After a brief stay at home, she returned to her teacher for more education in Latin. Eventually, at age eleven, she returned home for good to help care for her younger brothers and sisters. Yet her zest for knowledge, which remained with her throughout her life, was not extinguished. She learned to study late at night after the other members of the household went to bed.

      In late 1484 or early 1485, Cereta married Pietro Serina, a merchant who owned a shop on the Rialto in Venice. Widowed and childless after eighteen months of marriage, Cereta neither remarried nor entered a convent. To overcome her profound grief at the loss of her husband, Cereta became an even more ardent scholar. Temporarily hailed as a leading intellectual, she came under harsh criticism when she attempted to support herself by publishing her works. Six months after publishing her only volume of letters in 1488, Cereta's father, her strongest emotional support for her work, died. Finding no support for her work and attacked by both men and women from all sides, Cereta never published again.

      An ardent feminist, her letters include many feminist issues in addition to the standard issues of contemporary Italian humanism. A staunch defender of women, she discussed the oppression of women in marriage, the right of women to education in the arts and sciences, women's contribution to history and culture, and the frivilous nature of clothing and ornamentation for women. She is best remembered today for her strong defense of a woman's right to an education. Part of that defense is reproduced below.

      In an angry letter to Bibolo Semproni, Cereta replies to his statement that she is a novelty among women-- an intelligent, learned woman. Here she expresses her ideas about the intellectual capabilities of women. After giving numerous examples of women of accomplishment from antiquity to her own time, Cereta writes

      "All history is full of such examples. My point is that your mouth has grown foul because you keep it sealed so that no arguments can come out of it that might enable you to admit that nature imparts one freedom to all human beings equally - to learn. But the question of my exceptionality remains. And here choice alone, since it is the arbiter of character, is the distinguishing factor. For some women worry about the styling of their hair, the elegance of their clothes, and the pearls and other jewelry they wear on their fingers. Others love to say cute little things, to hide their feelings behind a mask of tranquillity, to indulge in dancing, and to lead pet dogs around on a leash. For all I care, other women can long for parties with carefully appointed tables, for the peace of mind of sleep, or they can yearn to deface with paint the pretty face they see reflected in their mirrors. But those women for whom the quest for the good represents a higher value restrain their young spirits and ponder better plans. They harden their bodies with sobriety and toil, they control their tongues, they carefully monitor what they hear, they ready their minds for all-night vigils, and they rouse their minds for the contemplation of probity in the case of harmful literature. For knowledge is not given as a gift but by study. For a mind free, keen, and unyielding in the face of hard work always rises to the good, and the desire for learning grows in the depth and breadth.
      So be it therefore. May we women, then, not be endowed by God the grantor with any giftedness or rare talent through any sanctity of our own. Nature has granted to all enough of her bounty; she opens to all the gates of choice, and through these gates, reason sends legates to the will, for it is through reason that these legates transmit desires. I shall make a bold summary of the matter. Yours is the authority, ours is the inborn ability. But instead of manly strength, we women are naturally endowed with cunning, instead of a sense of security, we are naturally suspicious. Down deep we women are content with our lot. But you, enraged and maddened by the anger of the dog from whom you flee, are like someone who has been frightened by the attack of a pack of wolves. The victor does not look for the fugitive; nor does she who desires a cease-fire with the enemy conceal herself. Nor does she set up camp with courage and arms when the conditions are hopeless. Nor does it give the strong any pleasure to pursue one who is already fleeing." pp 78 - 79

      Laura Cereta, Collected Letters of a Renaissance Feminist, transcribed, translated, and edited by Diana Robin, part of the series The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe, series editors Margaret L. King and Albert Rabil, Jr. University of Chicago Press, 1997

      Her Immaculate Hand, Margaret L. King and Albert Rabil, Jr., (Binghampton, NY:, Medieval & Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1991) pp. 21-30, pp. 77-86

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