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![]() Bendaña is a
Galician lineage, whose arms are:
In
a field of gold (or),
five roundels of sable arranged in a saltire The coat of arms of the family encapsulates a profound
heraldic symbolism that reflects the values and historical journey of
the lineage. The field of gold (or), an emblem of generosity, nobility,
and elevation of spirit, underscores the distinguished character of the
family, marked by its honor and commitment to serve with greatness. The
five roundels of sable, circular forms, evoke constancy, prudence,
wisdom, wealth, and unwavering loyalty, while the black hue (sable)
adds a note of sobriety and steadfastness. Their arrangement in
saltire, forming a Saint Andrew’s cross, symbolizes protection and
unity in the face of adversity, as well as a nod to martyrdom and
spiritual fortitude. Together, the coat of arms proclaims the family’s
ideals: nobility, perseverance, and tenacity, forged in a legacy of
enduring generosity and honor.
Another coat of arms used by some Bendañas of Galicia,
though not widely adopted, consists of a field of azure with six
bezants of gold arranged two by two.1
The Bendaña of Álava, a province in the Basque Country
with its capital in Vitoria, bear a coat of arms in which, on a field
of gold (or), there stands an uprooted tree of vert (sinople), with a
bear of sable rampant against the trunk.1bis
In the verdant heart of Galicia, a breath away from
the mythical
Santiago de Compostela—where bells echo with the sounds of
pilgrimage—stands the Parish of Santa María de Bendaña, a serene corner
nestled in the Municipality of Touro, within the misty province of La
Coruña. This place, bathed in the diffuse light filtering through oaks
and chestnuts, is not
![]() ![]() Amid that turbulent era, where the clash of swords resounded like an eternal song against the Moorish kingdoms of the south—the powerful Caliphate of Córdoba and the taifas that followed—the Bendaña lineage rose as a brave whisper, a lineage touched by the grace of loyalty and honor. Devoted with quiet, almost mystical passion to the guardianship and flourishing of the Christian cross, this noble family not only defended the lands of their parish but became a reflection of the greater struggle that defined their time. It is said that the Kingdom of León, under monarchs like Ordoño II or Alfonso VI, found in these noble families the strength and spirit to confront Almohad incursions and consolidate its dominion, thus weaving a legend that still echoes in the stones of its churches and castles. The parish itself, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, stood as a beacon of hope amid the shadows of war, its walls silent witnesses to oaths of loyalty and prayers raised to the heavens on uncertain nights. In a world where the line between life and death was as fragile as a sword’s edge, the Bendañas not only protected their Catholic faith but sowed the seeds of an identity that, in time, would blossom into the rich historical complexity of the nation. Thus, amid the clangor of battles and the gentle murmur of Leonese rivers, their legacy merged with the destiny of a kingdom that dreamed of eternity. The members of the House of Bendaña distinguished themselves not ![]() The Bendañas’ affiliation to these military orders not only evidences their fervent Christian faith but also reflects their rank in society and their role in consolidating Christian kingdoms on the peninsula. By proving their nobility in these orders, the Bendañas reaffirmed their commitment to the cause of the Reconquista. This active participation in the military orders allowed them to accumulate privileges, lands, and recognition, reinforcing their influence and legacy in the region’s history. ![]() Over time, the Order of Santiago stood out not only for its military valor but also for amassing enormous wealth and political power. Donations of lands, castles, and privileges from the nobility and monarchs, in gratitude for its work, allowed it to become one of the most influential orders in medieval Spain. Its structure included knights, clerics, and encomiendas that managed vast properties, giving it a dual military and religious character. As the Reconquista advanced and borders stabilized, the order diversified its activities, participating in the colonization of reconquered territories and courtly life, until its eventual integration into the Spanish Crown in the 15th century under the Catholic Monarchs, who assumed its grand mastership to centralize power. The Order of Calatrava, founded in 1158 in the Kingdom of Castile by Saint Raymond of Fitero, emerged with the mission of defending the strategic town of Calatrava against Moorish territories after it was abandoned by the Templars. With the support of the Cistercians, this ![]() The Order of Alcántara, emerging in 1154 also in the Kingdom of León, played a significant role in protecting borderlands with Al-Andalus. By taking on the defense of Alcántara in 1218, this order not only reinforced its military presence in the region but also influenced the social and economic development of the areas under its control, promoting repopulation and resource management. The Order of Santa María de Montesa and San Jorge de Alfama, founded in 1317 in the Kingdom of Aragon, arose in response to the dissolution of the Order of the Temple. Its headquarters, the Castle of Montesa, stood as a defensive stronghold in Valencia, notable for its military architecture tailored to the order’s needs. This order inherited the spirit and some of the Templar possessions in Aragonese territory, consolidating its role in defending the kingdom and expanding the Christian faith. Origin of the Bendaña Surname Berlanga García argues that the surname Bendaña has its roots in an Ibero-Basque origin, presenting it as an evolution of Mendaña and, even further back, Mendigaña,¹ᵗᵉʳ a name that whispers tales of heights and Navarrese peaks. According to this view, its meaning—“at the top of the mountain”—breaks down into the Basque prefix mend- (“mountain”) and the suffix gaña (“at the top”),² evoking the image of a lineage born among the crests of Basque landscapes, with the parish of Santa María de Bendaña as a possible toponymic echo of that heritage. López Mendizabal³ reinforces this thesis, classifying Bendaña as a toponymic surname of clear Basque origin, a distinction that transcends borders, as evidenced by the Juan de Garay Vasco-Argentine Foundation, which includes it among Basque-origin lineages that have left a mark in Argentina.⁴ ![]() On the other hand, Crepo Pozo⁵ defends that the correct denomination is Bendaña, dismissing its supposed transformation into Mendaña as a historical distortion. In Galicia, he argues, there is no evidence of a locality called Mendaña, while Santa María de Bendaña stands as concrete testimony, a stone sanctuary that indissolubly links the surname to its original land. Thus, the existence of similar toponyms like Beldoña, Bertoña, or Besaña not only reaffirms the name’s pre-Roman antiquity but also consolidates its Celtic character, weaving a coherent narrative that resonates in the Galician landscape. The Bendañas in the Late
Middle Ages
![]() During the 13th,
14th, and 15th
centuries, Galicia witnessed the rise of lineages that established
themselves as pillars of urban nobility, weaving a network of power and
influence that profoundly shaped the society of the time. Among these,
the Bendañas shone with singular brilliance, a noble family whose
reputation echoed in the highest circles, sharing prominence with other
illustrious lineages like the Moscoso and Montaos. These noble houses
distinguished themselves not only by their bloodline, a symbol of
prestige in a hierarchical society, but also by their ability to shape
the fate of Galician cities through active participation in politics,
the economy, and urban life.
Their influence unfurled like an imposing mantle, occupying positions of great responsibility ranging from city administration to prominent roles in the Catholic Church, where they often acted as patrons of monasteries and cathedrals or even held significant ecclesiastical titles. In a context where power intertwined with faith, the Bendañas, alongside the Moscoso and Montaos, became true architects of Galicia’s social and spiritual landscape, leaving a legacy that would endure in the region’s collective memory.5bis Historical
references transport us to
a fascinating era steeped in noble lineages and religious devotions
that shaped the destiny of lands and souls in the Middle Ages. As early
as the 13th century, the Bendaña lineage emerges in the annals of
history with a presence that resonates like a whisper among the stones
of ancient monasteries and time-worn parchments. A notable example is
found in 1253, when Don Alonso Ruiz de Bendaña, a man of character and
faith, decided to bequeath his earthly possessions to the Monastery of
San Salvador de Camanzo, a sacred enclave under the ecclesiastical
jurisdiction of Santiago. This noble expressed his final will with a
solemnity that transcends centuries: he requested that his body rest
eternally within the walls of that temple, as if seeking to merge his
mortal legacy with the spiritual eternity that place represented.⁶
The chronicles
also reveal the figure of Don Nuño Fernández de Bendaña, whose
existence was immortalized in a will drafted in 1276. This document,
far more than a mere record of possessions and wishes, stands as a
testament to the character of a man who, aware of life’s fleeting
nature, sought to leave an indelible mark on the history of his lineage
and his land. Thus, through pious donations and final dispositions, the
Bendañas not only crafted their own narrative but also contributed to
the rich tapestry of an era in which faith, power, and memory were
inextricably intertwined.
![]() A
comendador
was a member of a military or religious order, such as the Order of
Santiago, Calatrava, Alcántara, or the Temple, tasked with overseeing
an encomienda. An encomienda was a sort of administrative or
territorial unit that included lands, villages, or castles, granted by
the order or the king to a knight for administration and defense. The comendador was thus responsible for managing those assets, collecting
rents, maintaining order, and often organizing the military defense of
the area against threats, such as conflicts with Muslims during the
Reconquista.
The term comes from “encomendar,” meaning to entrust a responsibility. Comendadores were typically distinguished knights within the order, and their role combined military, administrative, and sometimes religious functions, given the orders’ hybrid monastic and martial nature. For instance, in the Order of Santiago, a comendador might oversee a minor encomienda or, if of high rank —like a “gran comendador”— hold authority over a broader region. Years later, in 1348, another figure of this illustrious lineage emerges: ![]() An
archdeacon of Reina in 14th-century Castile was the principal deacon of
a cathedral, tasked with overseeing administrative and disciplinary
matters of the clergy, representing a significant ecclesiastical
authority within the religious structure of the time.
The Bendaña
lineage does not fade
with the passing decades, for in 1379, Doña María González de Bendaña appears on
the scene—a woman whose determination and lineage led her to
assertively claim her rights. She presented herself as “the legitimate
successor in the enjoyment of the parishes previously held in tenancy
by her brother Roi González de Bendaña and her father Gonzalo Sánchez
de Bendaña,8bis This episode not only
underscores the
continuity of the family’s influence but also sheds light on the
prominent role of women in the familial, social, and legal spheres of
14th-century Galicia. The parishes, lands laden with economic and
symbolic value, represented far more than mere possessions: they were a
testament to the power and memory of a family that, generation after
generation, left its mark on the history of medieval Spain. Thus, the
Bendañas stand as a fascinating reflection of the intrigues, ambitions,
and devotions of their time.
A
parish was a territorial demarcation linked to a church or parish,
encompassing its parishioners and the economic resources, such as lands
or rents, that sustained its operation and granted prestige to its
controller.
Don Álvaro Núñez
de Isorna y Bendaña
(or Mendaña), a prominent figure in Galician ecclesiastical history,
assumed the bishopric of Mondoñedo in 1402,⁹ a seat of great
significance in the region near the Ulla River, known for its rich
“historical nooks” as described by Héitor Picallo in his article
for El Correo
Gallego on
June 17, 2006. In addition, Don Diego Mínguez de Bendaña y Oanes
de Muros, a member of a lineage that left its mark on the religious
hierarchy, held the position of bishop of Oviedo around 1517,9bis
during a period of significant transformations for the Church and
Spanish society, contemporary with figures like Cardinal Francisco
Jiménez de Cisneros, whose reformist influence shaped the era. These
episcopal trajectories, also documented in classic works like La reina del Tórmes: guía
histórico-descriptiva de la ciudad de Salamanca by
Araujo y Gómez (1884), reflect the interconnectedness between Galician
elites and the peninsula’s centers of religious power in those times.
Before the 11th
century, identities on the Iberian Peninsula were woven
with simple threads: a single name sufficed to distinguish a person,
occasionally adorned with a cognomen or second appellative adding a
distinctive touch. However, from the 11th century onward, as if history
had decided to embroider a more complex tapestry, references to lineage
began to flourish, a system that took firm root in the 12th century,
especially among the aristocracy eager to proclaim their ancestry. This
new art of naming intertwined the primary name with a
patronymic—derived from the father’s name, though it could sometimes
trace back to paternal or maternal ancestors—and a demonym or
toponym anchoring the person to a place or lineage. Thus, for example,
Fernando, son of Álvaro Rodríguez de Bendaña, emerged as Fernando
Álvarez de Bendaña, while his son Suero, following the dance of names,
became Suero Fernández de Bendaña. Even more, another of Fernando’s
sons, Rodrigo, chose to take his prestigious maternal grandfather
Pelayo’s name as a patronymic, presenting himself as Rodrigo Peláez de
Bendaña, showing how surnames could vary surprisingly among siblings.
The suffix “ez,” an echo of Visigothic origin meaning “son of,” not only revealed ancestry but also carried the weight of Germanic influence that had crossed the Pyrenees centuries earlier, leaving indelible marks on Hispanic culture. This system, initially a dynamic reflection of family ties, crystallized over time into the hereditary surnames we know today, becoming capsules of the past that preserve not only the memory of a progenitor but also clues to ancestral lands—like Bendaña—linked to Galician regions.9ter Before this reform, nominal chaos was the norm. People presented themselves with a simple given name, often followed by a surname or nickname evoking their homeland—a river, a valley—their trade—smith, miller—or even a peculiar trait—“the lame,” “the brave.” This creative freedom, though picturesque, was a labyrinth for administration: siblings of the same blood might bear different surnames, inherited from fluctuating patronymics or disparate geographic references, turning family tracing into an odyssey. Imagine a scribe trying to unravel whether Juan Pérez de Bendaña and María González de Bendaña were father and daughter, siblings, or merely relatives; the confusion was a luxury the nascent modern state could not afford. Cisneros’s ordinance cut this Gordian knot with an elegant and definitive solution: the paternal surname would be fixed as the banner of all descendants, anchoring families to a common root. This mandate, designed to grease the wheels of bureaucracy—from censuses to inheritances—brought clarity to ecclesiastical and civil records in an era of imperial expansion and growing social complexity. But its impact transcended mere practicality: over time, this rule crystallized into a tradition that spread like a mighty river, not only across Spain but also through the vast domains of its empire, leaving an imprint on naming practices that resonates to this day. Moreover, this reform laid the groundwork for a peculiarity that distinguishes the Spanish-speaking world: the use of the maternal surname as a second surname. Though this custom of double surnames developed gradually, the foundations laid by Cisneros in 1501—strengthening the idea of clear and perpetual lineages—facilitated its flourishing. What began as an administrative measure transformed into a cultural symbol, a dual echo of heritage intertwining father and mother in every name, from Iberian lands to Hispanic America. Thus, Cisneros’s legacy not only ordered the past but sculpted a future where every surname tells a story of roots and belonging.¹⁰ Eduardo Pardo de Guevara y Valdéz, in his monumental work De las viejas estirpes a las nuevas hidalguías: El entramado nobiliario gallego de la Edad Media,¹¹ masterfully unravels the deep and almost mystical connection of the Bendaña lineage with the Church of Santiago, a nexus of spiritual and temporal power that dominated Galician lands like a beacon in the medieval mist. This historian portrays the Bendañas as an ancestral lineage, not only rooted in earthly nobility but interwoven with the highest ecclesiastical spheres, flourishing under the protective shadow of the Compostelan cathedral, whose influence stretched from altars to the edges of Christendom thanks to the fervor of the Camino de Santiago. Far from mere spectators, the Bendañas rose as protagonists in this sacred scene, consolidating their prestige under the aegis of an institution that was both a sanctuary and a fortress of authority.¹² Among the names illuminating this family saga stands Fernán Rodríguez de Bendaña, an imposing figure who, toward the end of the 13th century, wielded the scales of justice as an ecclesiastical judge of Santiago, resolving disputes with the severity of one bearing a divine mandate. Centuries later, Gonzalo Sánchez de Bendaña emerged as a pillar of the Compostelan Church, serving as Dean and Vicar Capitular between 1398 and 1404, a period of intrigue and ecclesiastical splendor that culminated in his death in 1405,¹³ as detailed by Antonio López Ferreiro in his Historia de la Santísima Iglesia de Santiago de Compostela. No less notable was Don Rodrigo Ares de Bendaña, whose aspirations and devotion led him to ascend to the bishopric of Laodicea around 1452. Alongside him, Gonzalo de Bendaña, a canon in the mid-15th century,¹⁴ embodied the continuity of this family tradition, navigating the complex networks of kinship and power that defined Galicia’s ecclesiastical hierarchy. Each of these men, with their silk robes and seals of authority, not only elevated the Bendaña name but wove its legacy into the tapestry of a medieval Galicia where faith and lineage were inseparable. An
ecclesiastical judge was a judicial authority within the Catholic
Church, tasked with resolving disputes in religious, matrimonial, or
moral matters, applying canon law. These judges depended on bishoprics
and wielded notable influence in local life.
The dean was a high-ranking ecclesiastical office, typically the president of the cathedral chapter, responsible for leading the canons and managing cathedral affairs. It was a key figure in religious and, at times, political organization. The vicar capitular was the temporary representative of a bishop, elected by the chapter to govern a diocese during a vacancy (due to the bishop’s death or absence). In medieval Galicia, he ensured administrative and spiritual continuity. A canon was a member of a cathedral or collegiate chapter, a cleric dedicated to liturgical and administrative duties in a cathedral or significant church. Canons played a relevant role in ecclesiastical and cultural management. The bishopric of Laodicea did not correspond to an active diocese in the Iberian Peninsula but referred to the ancient see of Laodicea in Phrygia (modern-day Turkey), known from its mention in the Apocalypse. Though a historical bishopric in the early centuries of Christianity, its relevance in medieval Spain was symbolic, theological, and scholarly. It was used as an honorary title in partibus infidelium (“in the lands of the infidels”) for distinguished clerics, assigned administrative, diplomatic, or auxiliary duties in active dioceses. This practice intensified from the Late Middle Ages (13th-14th centuries) and persisted into the 20th century, reflecting nostalgia for lost Christian territories and the Church’s hierarchical structure. In
the vibrant tapestry of 16th-century maritime explorations, when oceans
became the canvas of dreams and ambitions of a rising empire, the
figure of Álvaro de Bendaña (or Mendaña) de Neira emerged. Born in 1542
under the skies of deepest Galicia and a distinguished nephew of the
powerful governor of Peru, this intrepid navigator rose in 1567 as the
helmsman of an expedition that sailed the uncharted waters of the
Pacific, leading his men to a discovery that would echo in the annals
of history: the discovery of the Solomon Islands,¹⁵ an archipelago
evoking the mythical riches of the biblical king and promising glory to
the Spanish crown. Álvaro, hailing from the parish of Santa María de
Bendaña, nestled in the municipality of Touro within the judicial
district of Arzúa in the province of La Coruña,15bis
carried
in his blood the
legacy of a Galician lineage forged in stone and faith—a lineage that
propelled him to transcend the confines of his homeland and project his
name to the edges of the world. This milestone was no mere accident of
fate but a reflection of the bold spirit of a man whose cradle, woven
amid Galicia’s green valleys and mists, prepared him to navigate storms
and stars. Thus, the discovery of the Solomon Islands not only marked a
golden page in the chronicle of maritime explorations but also
highlighted the crucial role of ancient families like the Bendañas in
the epic that expanded the horizons of the known world, carrying the
banner of the Spanish Empire to lands where the sun rose over seas
never before charted. The debate over
the origin of the
Bendaña surname, proposed by some as having Sephardic roots under the
variants Bendana or Abendana, faces limitations when contrasted with
available historical and genealogical evidence.
Available historical records do not support the hypothesis of a direct connection between the Bendaña family and the Jewish community. On the contrary, there is solid documentation linking the Bendañas to the Catholic Church since at least the 13th century, several centuries before the promulgation of the Alhambra Decree by the Catholic Monarchs on March 31, 1492, which ordered the conversion or expulsion of unconverted Jews from Spain. This deep-rooted relationship with Catholicism, sustained over time, evidences a tradition incompatible with the Sephardic roots that have been suggested. Moreover, the pre-Roman Celtic origin of the Bendaña surname, previously analyzed, further reinforces the improbability of a Sephardic lineage. This body of evidence underscores the complexity of identities and family trajectories within the framework of medieval and Renaissance Spain, where personal and collective histories intertwine with the cultural and religious shifts of the era. An illustrious Sephardic surname similar to Bendaña, but unrelated to it and possibly the source of confusion regarding the Bendaña surname’s origin, is Abendana. The Abendana surname originated in the early 17th century —five centuries after the first Bendañas appeared in history— with Marrano Francisco Núñez Pereyra, originally from Spain and later settled in Portugal, who subsequently established himself in Amsterdam. After losing his first son, Justa Pereyra, his cousin and wife, attributed the loss to Francisco’s not having accepted Abraham’s Covenant. Francisco performed the rite and adopted the name David Abendana, later founding Amsterdam’s first synagogue.¹⁶ The prefix “aben” means “descendant of,” from the Arabic ibn, related to the Hebrew ben, while the suffix “dana” is the feminine form of Dan, son of Jacob and founder of the Tribe of Dan.¹⁷ In contrast, as we have seen, the Bendaña surname, with its Celtic roots, derives from “vindo” or “windo,” terms evoking a deity of that pantheon, and the suffix “ana,” of pre-Latin Galician origin, points to a cultural and linguistic heritage distinct from Abendana. Often, due to phonetic similarity, the surnames Bendaña and Avendaño are confused, leading some to consider them variants of the same lineage. However, each surname has a distinct origin and development. Avendaño is a Galician surname of patronymic origin, derived from Mendo and originally known as Mendayo. This lineage later moved to the Basque Country, where it established a new house in San Martín de Avendaño, an enclave near Vitoria.¹⁸ This analysis highlights how the etymology of surnames can reflect the rich complexity of histories, cultures, and migrations, underscoring the importance of distinguishing between lineages despite phonetic similarities they may present. The Bendaña Lineage in Nicaragua
![]() At that time, royal authority, emanating from the distant yet imposing metropolis, projected itself with splendor across overseas territories, reaching even the confines of New Spain, a territory spanning much of the present-day United States to Central America. In recounting the generations of the Bendaña family in Nicaragua, we will focus particularly on those leading to Bendaña Guerrero de Arcos, while also highlighting notable members of the lineage. I. Andrés de Bendaña y Moscoso One of the earliest notable figures of the lineage was Don Andrés de Bendaña y Moscoso,²⁰ a man whose historical presence solidified toward the end of that century, around 1783,²¹ when he held the prestigious position of Royal Scribe in the city of Granada—a role that positioned him as a custodian of documents and guarantor of legality in a society where the pen was as powerful as the sword. Don Andrés, distinguished by the title “don” proclaiming his status as a hidalgo,²² not only represented a family of noble lineage but also embodied the ideal of criollo nobility in an ever-evolving province like Nicaragua, part of the Captaincy General of Guatemala and, in turn, the Viceroyalty of New Spain. In 1794, his name resurfaces prominently in historical records as a signatory to a letter addressed to the authorities in Guatemala, a passionate document defending Don Miguel de la Quadra,²³ reflecting the political intrigues and loyalties that defined relationships among the elites of the empire’s provinces. This act not only underscores his influence but positions him as an active player in the power circles connecting Nicaragua to the viceroyalty’s administrative centers. King
Felipe IV, in a gesture that echoed through the centuries, promulgated
a law on January 3, 1611, granting the coveted title of “don” to a
select group of dignataries within his vast empire: bishops, whose
spiritual authority guided souls; counts, pillars of the feudal
hierarchy upholding earthly order; and the sons and daughters of
hidalgos, heirs to a nobility rooted in blood and tradition. This
privilege, wrapped in the pomp of the Baroque court, was more than a
mere honor; it was a mark of distinction elevating its bearers above
the common folk, reflecting the grandeur of a monarchy intent on
preserving the hierarchies of its time. However, like the fading echo
of a drum, this exclusive meaning blurred over the centuries: by the
mid-19th century, in a world transformed by revolutions and new ideas,
the “don” lost its original luster and became democratized, spreading
like an unstoppable current beyond the walls of nobility and clergy,
adopted by a much broader spectrum of the population—from prosperous
merchants to families of humble lineage seeking a hint of prestige in
its everyday use.²⁴
![]() In the 18th century, the Bendaña lineage intertwined
with the
currents of passion and life in American lands, leaving indelible marks
on Central America’s history. Doña Andrea de Bendaña y Moscoso, a lady
of great beauty and distinction, united her destiny with Don José
González y Rancaño, a man of authority and resolve who governed
Nicaragua between 1751 and 1756 with the firmness of one bearing the
weight of an empire on his shoulders.²⁵ Meanwhile, Doña Tomasa de
Bendaña y Moscoso, born under the blazing sun of Granada, Nicaragua,
and passing away on June 24, 1810, in the peaceful San José de Costa
Rica, wove her own saga by marrying Don Juan Manuel de Cañas Trujillo y
Sánchez in 1788—a colonel of the Royal Armies whose career culminated
as governor of Costa Rica in 1819, a military man whose sword and pen
left marks in a time of turbulent change.²⁶ From this union was born
Don Manuel Antonio de Cañas y Bendaña, a son of Granada who came into
the world around 1789, heir to a legacy of nobility and ambition. In
1814, this gentleman took Doña Ana Hidalgo Muñoz de la Trinidad as his
wife, a woman of lineage who brought with her the promise of an
illustrious progeny. From this marriage emerged Doña Manuela de Cañas
Trujillo e Hidalgo de Alvarado, whose life intersected with Don Álvaro
Contreras, giving rise to a lineage that would resonate in literature
and the soul of a nation: they were the parents of Doña Rafaela
Contreras y de Cañas, the first wife of the immortal poet Rubén Darío,
the prince of Castilian letters, whose son, Rubén Darío Contreras,
carried in his blood the echo of this family that united passion and
poetry in the heart of America.²⁷
Descendants of Don Andrés de Bendaña y Moscoso were Anacleto,
Feliciano, and Ignacio de Bendaña.27bisIn
Nicaragua, part of the Spanish Empire, the use of the preposition “de”
in surnames like “de Bendaña” indicated membership in a distinguished
lineage. This practice was common in Hispanic tradition to signify
lineage or origin. However, throughout the 19th century, with the
processes of secession and the consolidation of a more defined national
identity, the use of “de” began to be omitted.
II. Feliciano Bendaña II. Anacleto Bendaña In 1811,
brothers Anacleto (known familiarly as Cleto) and
Feliciano Bendaña, caught in a whirlwind of events, found
themselves at the heart of the struggle for Central America’s
secession from Spain. Regarding
the separation of Spanish America from Spain, it is not entirely
accurate to use the term "independence" in its strict sense, since the
current Spanish American countries were not subordinate colonies of
Spain, but rather fully integrated parts of it. Indeed, Article 1 of
the Cádiz Constitution of 181227ter establishes
that "The Spanish Nation is the union of all Spaniards from both
hemispheres," thereby integrating the Spanish American territories,
including Central America, as components of Spain with legal equality.
This principle was not a novelty, but rather the continuation of an
integrative conception already rooted in the Hispanic sphere. For
example, the Foundational Statutes of the Archconfraternity of the Most
Holy Resurrection of Christ Our Redeemer, established in 1579 and
published in 1603, proclaimed:27quater
"Being this Archconfraternity proper to the Spanish Nation,
it is necessary that whoever is to be admitted to it be Spanish, and
not of another nation; declaring for this purpose that the quality of
being Spanish applies both to those from the Crown of Castile, as well
as from the Crown of Aragon, and from the Kingdom of Portugal, and from
the Canary Islands, Mallorca, Menorca, Sardinia, the Azores, and the
islands and mainland of both Indies, without any distinction of age,
sex, status, or condition of person; whether born in any of the
aforementioned lands or the child of someone born therein," thus
recognizing Spanish Americans as Spaniards without any distinction.
Within this framework, the secession of Central America in 1821
represented a break with a monarchy that considered it a constitutive
part of its structure, while independence, in the strict sense, was
consolidated with the affirmation of their sovereignty as autonomous
entities.
Cleto and Feliciano, like others involved in the revolt, faced the consequences of their actions. Shackled, they were led on muleback to the city of Guatemala, a journey marked by silence and uncertainty. Later, their fate took them even farther: they crossed the Atlantic to prisons in Spain, sent to distant lands to serve their punishment. Despite the chains and exile, their participation in those turbulent days left an indelible mark on the memory of those who witnessed the dawn of a new chapter for Central America.²⁸ By a Royal Order issued on July 25, 1817, the return of their properties was decreed for those still imprisoned, whether in America or Spain, and they were granted freedom. However, this measure came with a restriction: they were not permitted to return to the lands they came from, forcing them to rebuild their lives elsewhere.²⁹ A few steps from the bustling Central Park of Granada stands an imposing monument honoring Nicaragua’s independence heroes, among whom Cleto Bendaña stands out.Cleto Bendaña, who was a lawyer, embarked on a bold journey to Honduras, taking with him his sons, Jesús and Emilio, thus planting the ![]() Honduras’s history preserves the name of Don Anacleto Bendaña as a figure of weight in a time of change and upheaval. In 1827, this man, born according to some records in 1781, rose to the position of Supreme Director of the nation, a title that placed him at the helm of the fledgling republic during a period of fragility and definition. He was no stranger to political agitation: Vallejo,³⁰ in his chronicles, paints a vivid portrait of Cleto, highlighting his role in the 1811 rebellion when he rose alongside others in a challenge to break Spain’s bonds. Years later, his ascent to supreme leadership in Honduras made him a key protagonist in building a national identity still in its infancy. Under his command, the country navigated the turbulent waters of newly won independence, facing both the promises of a sovereign future and the echoes of a past reluctant to fade. Cleto, with his experience forged in struggle and exile, took the reins of a people eager to find their place in the world. His leadership, brief but intense, left a mark that historians still peruse with curiosity, wondering what visions and shadows guided this man in his rise to power. II. Ignacio Bendaña Don Ignacio
Bendaña, born in 1777,
married Doña Rita Marenco, and their descendants were Francisco,
Pastora, Jesús, Joaquín, and Esteban.³¹
From the Bendaña Marenco family, Doña Pastora married Don Pío Bolaños; Jesús moved to Guatemala and later to Honduras; Francisco relocated to Colombia and then Costa Rica, apparently without descendants; Joaquín continued living in Granada; and Esteban moved to the city of Jinotepe. III. Esteban Bendaña
Marenco
From Don Esteban and Don Joaquín stem the two branches that today form the Bendaña family in Nicaragua, each distinguished by its own character and nickname. On one hand, Esteban’s descendants are known as “pollos” (chickens), a moniker perhaps evoking agility or a lively spirit. On the other, Joaquín’s descendants bear the nickname “chompipes,” a term in Nicaragua referring to the turkey, that imposing and resonant bird inhabiting Nicaraguan lands. These two lines, originating from the brothers Joaquín and Esteban, have woven a rich tapestry of stories and traditions over the years, preserving the Bendaña surname as a lasting echo in the country’s memory. In a 1815 report drafted by the bishop of Nicaragua and Costa Rica, mention is made of Don Esteban Bendaña Marenco, recorded as tonsured in Xinotepet, known today as Jinotepe.³² At that time, Don Esteban was just an adolescent, estimated to be between 12 and 15 years old. By entering the seminary, he followed his lineage’s rich tradition of serving the Catholic Church. This detail, preserved in ecclesiastical records, offers a glimpse into the early steps of a figure who, even in youth, was already tied to the rites and structures of his time. Don Esteban Bendaña, despite his early ties to ecclesiastical life, ultimately chose a different path and left the tonsure behind to embrace married life. He wed Doña Ambrosia Villavicencio Umaña, a union that bore abundant fruit. From this marriage were born several children who carried the lineage forward: Doña María Luisa, born in 1824; Don José de los Santos, born in 1829; Don Julián, arriving in 1832; Don José Rafael; Doña Josefa de la Luz; and Doña Josefa Gabriela. Each extended the branches of a family tree deeply rooted in their land’s history. From Don Esteban and Doña Rita descend:
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