Meet Me in São Luís: Ana Jansen

This post is part of an ongoing series which seeks to introduce the readership of this blog to the many fascinating aspects of one of Brazil’s best-kept secrets–the city of São Luís.

If you want to provoke a reaction in any Ludovicense (natives of São Luís), drop the name Ana Jansen somewhere in casual conversation. If you have time, you will be regaled with stories of a woman so evil that even today she inspires fear and dread.
They will tell you of how Ana Jansen (1793 – 1869) rose to power through marriages and trysts with powerful men–who conveniently died, leaving her vast sums of money.
In hushed whispers they speak of her cruelty to slaves. She tortured them mercilessly, she made them lie down on muddy roads so she could walk on their backs, she yanked out the teeth of a pretty young slave who dared to smile at her, she threw miscreant slaves into a pit with spikes protruding from the bottom…the stories go on and on and get progressively more gruesome.
Solemnly they will tell how she maintained her control over the water supply by putting dead cats in the city wells–thus forcing the people to buy water from her own wells–distributed by “water wagons” that went from house to house.
Shaking their heads, they will recount the story of a local merchant, who–in an attempt to tweak this powerful woman–had special pinicos (porcelain bowls used for taking care of one’s physical necessities) made in England with her face imprinted in the bottom. Ana Jansen quietly had her slaves buy them all. The unwise merchant awoke one morning to find all the bowls, filled with human feces, piled in front of his door.
They might even tell how the city lived in fear of her, how she had a personal army of four hundred slaves that would do her bidding, and how even Dom Pedro II–emperor of Brazil–called her “The Queen of Maranhão”.
And with equal conviction they will inform you that Ana Jansen still roams the streets of old São Luís, every Friday night at midnight. She rides in a fiery coach, driven by a headless slave and pulled by two headless horses. She will approach the hapless citizen who by chance is walking the cobblestone streets at that late hour and ask them to pray for her soul. Some say the sounds of screaming slaves can be heard in the background.
Today historians are noncommittal about how many of the above anecdotes are actually true. In fact, there seems to be a serious effort afoot to rehabilitate her image as a woman who “made it big” during a time when women were little more than property.

One man, very knowledgeable on all things São Luís, suggested to me that the “ghost carriage” legend was the deliberate invention of old-time smugglers, who wanted the streets vacant every Friday night so they could move their wares with impunity.
If that’s the case, they did a very good job of it. Just a couple weeks ago I strolled through the SEBRAMA–an ancient hemp factory turned cultural center. There I noticed several antique carriages dating back to Ana Jansen’s time. I asked one of the vendors if any of these had belonged to than infamous woman. At the mention of Ana’s name the woman’s eyes went wide. She shook her head vigorously. “I should hope not!”
“There’s one way to tell,” I joked. “Come here Friday at midnight. If one of them is missing–that’s the one.”
Her face went white and she crossed herself. “God forbid!” she exclaimed.