January 18, 1803 - Into The Unknown

Thomas Jefferson stood at the edge of the long mahogany table in the President’s House, fingertips resting on maps that stretched halfway across the continent. Most of the western portion was blank—dangerously, tantalizingly blank. Somewhere beyond the Mississippi lay millions of acres claimed by France, watched by Spain, and coveted by Britain.

And Jefferson needed to know what was out there.

A knock sounded.

Meriwether Lewis stepped inside, his eyes brushing over the scattered papers. “Mr. President, the committee is assembled.”

Jefferson nodded but kept his gaze on the empty spaces marked Unknown. “Everything depends on subtlety today, Meriwether. Europe must hear ‘science,’ not ‘expansion.’ Curiosity, not conquest.”

Lewis crossed his arms. “But the expedition—if approved—will be more than a scientific stroll. The Corps of Discovery will go all the way to the Pacific. No American has ever attempted that.”

Jefferson’s voice softened. “Which is precisely why we must tread lightly. If the French believe we intend to claim the land, they may close the Mississippi. If Spain suspects our ambition, they will send troops north from New Orleans. And Britain…” He paused. “Britain waits for our first misstep.”

Lewis nodded grimly. He already knew the stakes. Jefferson had chosen him for his discipline, his wilderness skills, and his loyalty. Soon Lewis himself would choose William Clark as co-leader—a man of equal fortitude.

But none of that could happen unless today went right.

The congressional chamber quieted as Jefferson entered. He carried a small stack of papers—not the true plans, of course, just what Congress needed to see.

“Gentlemen,” Jefferson began, “I request a modest appropriation of $2,500 to support an expedition of scientific and commercial inquiry into the lands of the Missouri River.”

Representative Gaylord arched a brow. “Inquiry? Into Spanish and French territory?”

Jefferson kept his expression neutral. “The goal is peaceful observation. To study the native nations, their languages, their trade customs. To note plant life, geography, and wildlife. And”—he paused purposefully—“to determine whether a practical water route might exist to the Pacific Ocean.”

This was the key phrase.
The Northwest Passage—that mythical artery of commerce—was something all nations claimed to seek. It was safe to say aloud. Safe to pretend it was the real goal.

A congressman from Massachusetts stood. “And who will lead it?”

“Meriwether Lewis,” Jefferson replied, glancing at him. “He will assemble a corps of capable men—soldiers, interpreters, hunters. They will winter at the Mandan villages, push up the Missouri, cross the Rocky Mountains if possible.”

The chamber murmured.

Jefferson continued, “They will make diplomatic contact with every tribe they meet. Present peace medals. Establish goodwill on behalf of the United States.”

He did not say: They will claim the territory quietly in our name if France grows weak.
He did not say: This journey will prepare us for the Louisiana Purchase I hope to secure this very year.

Some truths were too large for this room.

A representative from Maryland shook his head. “But the risks are enormous. No one knows what lies past the Mandan. There are stories of impassable mountains, hostile warrior nations, monstrous animals—”

Lewis whispered from behind Jefferson, “They’ll learn soon enough about the grizzlies.”

Jefferson suppressed the urge to smile.

The committee chair tapped his desk. “We will take the vote.”

Silence filled the chamber as slips were written, collected, counted. Jefferson stood perfectly composed, though his heart thudded steadily beneath his waistcoat.

Finally the clerk announced:

“Funding—approved.”

Lewis exhaled sharply. Jefferson bowed politely to the assembly.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Your support will enrich the scientific understanding of our young nation.”

When they stepped into the hallway, Lewis turned to him. “So now the Corps of Discovery becomes real.”

“Indeed,” Jefferson said. “You and Clark will map rivers no American has seen. You will record new species—elk, pronghorn, the great grizzlies. You will encounter the Shoshone, the Mandan, the Nez Perce. You will cross mountains that may break horses and men.” He paused. “And if fortune favors us, you will reach the Pacific Ocean and return with proof that this continent can be crossed.”

Lewis nodded slowly, absorbing the weight.

“And we must move discreetly,” Jefferson added. “If Spain or France suspects we intend to extend the borders of the republic…” He glanced westward, toward lands still controlled by empires. “They may act before we are strong enough to counter them.”

Lewis’s voice was quiet. “But if all goes well… This journey could shape the future of the nation.”

Jefferson smiled at last. “It will, Meriwether. In ways no one yet understands.”

Through a narrow window, the winter sunlight fell across the blank areas of the map—the future United States waiting to be revealed.

And on January 18, 1803, the path toward the Lewis & Clark Expedition officially began.

Lewis lingered beside the window, staring out at the brittle winter branches trembling in the wind. The cold outside seemed almost symbolic—a chill of uncertainty, of vast unknown spaces waiting beyond the Mississippi. He let the silence hang a moment before speaking again.

“Mr. President… do you believe the men truly understand what they’re agreeing to? Months—years—away from home, battling river currents, starvation, strange climates…”

Jefferson joined him at the window. “No,” he admitted softly. “They cannot fully grasp it. No one can. Even you, Meriwether, will not understand until you stand in the middle of the Great Plains, days from the nearest tree, or face mountains so tall their peaks disappear into clouds.”

Lewis swallowed, imagining it—the endless horizon, the solitude, the weight of leading dozens of men into the unknown. “And yet,” he said, “I feel called to it.”

Jefferson turned to look at him. “Because it is more than a mission. It is the shaping of a nation’s identity.”

They walked slowly down the hallway, their footsteps echoing off the marble. As they passed a series of tall windows, Jefferson stopped again—this time before a portrait of George Washington.

“You know,” he said quietly, “General Washington believed the strength of this country lay in its ability to expand, to explore, to test the limits of its own courage.”

Lewis tilted his head. “Do you believe he foresaw this?”

Jefferson’s eyes softened. “Perhaps not the specifics. But I believe he knew that if the republic were to thrive, it could not remain confined. It must grow—not through war or domination, but through discovery, diplomacy, knowledge.”

He placed a hand on Lewis’s shoulder. “That is the spirit of this expedition. Not conquest. Enlightenment.”

Lewis felt a surge of both pride and pressure tighten in his chest. “Then I will not fail you.”

Jefferson gave him a small, earnest smile. “You will not fail the nation.”

A servant appeared at the end of the hall, carrying a sealed packet—fresh correspondence from Paris. Jefferson took it with a flicker of apprehension. He recognized the wax seal: American Ambassador Robert Livingston.

Lewis raised a brow. “News?”

“Perhaps,” Jefferson murmured, breaking the seal carefully. He scanned the letter, his expression shifting subtly—relief, curiosity, something close to hope.

“France may be considering selling more land than we imagined,” Jefferson whispered. “Napoleon is stretched thin. Haiti has rebelled. War with Britain looms. If he needs funds…”

Lewis leaned in. “He might sell the Louisiana Territory.”

Jefferson nodded slowly. “All of it. Not just New Orleans.”

A stunned silence closed between them.

“That would double the size of the nation,” Lewis said in awe.

“Yes,” Jefferson replied. “And it would make your journey even more critical. We must understand what we may soon own. The rivers, the valleys, the nations who live there. Without knowledge, territory is only ink on a map.”

Lewis straightened, sensing history shifting beneath his feet.

“What should I do first?” he asked.

Jefferson folded the letter carefully. “Begin preparations. Seek out the finest river men. Hunters skilled enough to feed a company. Blacksmiths who can repair weapons. Interpreters who know the native languages. And when the time comes, assemble a team of journals, instruments, compasses, sextants—every tool you may need to write the geography of this continent for the first time.”

Lewis nodded, determination settling over him like armor.

“And Clark?” he asked.

Jefferson smiled knowingly. “Write to him tonight. Tell him the nation requires both of you.”

Lewis exhaled, excitement rising beneath the weight of the task. “Then I will begin immediately.”

He turned to leave, but Jefferson called after him softly.

“Meriwether.”

Lewis paused.

“When you return,” Jefferson said, “you will not recognize this nation. And this nation will not be able to speak of its future without speaking of you.”

Lewis bowed his head, humbled. “Then let me earn that future.”

Jefferson watched him walk down the corridor—one man, already carrying the destiny of millions on his shoulders.

Outside, the pale winter sun glowed faintly on the horizon, illuminating the blank spaces on the map. Spaces that would soon bear names, paths, borders, stories.

Spaces waiting to become America.

Historical Synopsis

On January 18, 1803, President Thomas Jefferson received congressional approval for a request of $2,500 to fund what would soon become the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Jefferson presented the mission to Congress as a scientific and commercial survey of the lands along the Missouri River, emphasizing goals such as collecting data on geography, natural resources, and Indigenous cultures. He intentionally framed the request in neutral, scientific language to avoid provoking European powers—especially France and Spain, who held competing claims in the West.

However, Jefferson had deeper motives. He believed the United States needed reliable information about the vast territory west of the Mississippi, anticipating that the land could soon change hands as Napoleon reevaluated France’s North American empire. The approval came just months before the United States negotiated the Louisiana Purchase in April 1803, which doubled the size of the nation.

After securing the funding, Jefferson appointed his personal secretary, Meriwether Lewis, to lead the expedition, who then selected William Clark as co-commander. The “Corps of Discovery” set out in 1804 to map the newly acquired territory, establish diplomatic relations with Native nations, and determine whether an overland route to the Pacific existed. This journey became one of the most significant exploration missions in American history, helping shape the nation’s expansion westward.

^{This story is based on documented historical records and contemporaneous accounts}

Works Cited

Ambrose, Stephen E. Undaunted Courage: Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson, and the Opening of the American West. Simon & Schuster, 1996.

Jefferson, Thomas. “Confidential Message to Congress Regarding the Lewis & Clark Expedition.” The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, edited by Andrew A. Lipscomb and Albert Ellery Bergh, vol. 10, Thomas Jefferson Memorial Association, 1903, pp. 244–246.

Ronda, James P. Lewis and Clark Among the Indians. University of Nebraska Press, 1984.

West, Elliott. “The Louisiana Purchase and the Lewis and Clark Expedition.” OAH Magazine of History, vol. 19, no. 3, 2005, pp. 7–9.

Woodger, Elin and David R. Smith. Encyclopedia of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Facts On File, 2004.