You might not think that the father of our country had any detractors, but he did, especially in the wake of so many military setbacks—not only in New York, but later in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Starting with the Battle of Long Island in August 1776, British General William Howe drove the Continental Army back to Brooklyn Heights. Though told by Congress to hold the city, Washington decided he had to abandon New York. He then lost at Harlem Heights, suffered defeat at White Plains, lost Fort Washington along with 3,000 prisoners, and shortly after evacuated Fort Lee.

Luckily, Howe’s attention to Fort Washington gave the Continental Army a chance to escape across the Hudson and into New Jersey. But Washington’s struggles continued. At the end of 1776, General Charles Lee lost 4000 Americans covering Washington’s retreat through New Jersey. In December Congress abandoned Philadelphia for Baltimore. Fortune favored Washington again when Howe went into winter quarters. His army capitalized, striking hard on Christmas night, crossing the Delaware River, raiding Trenton and capturing 1000 Hessians along with arms and ammunition. In January, Washington’s men defeated British reinforcements at Princeton before escaping to Morristown, NJ.

Though Washington and his army showed pluck and resilience, such triumphs were pretty rare. His army was again defeated at Brandywine in September 1777 and later that month, General Howe occupied Philadelphia. In early October, Washington lost at Germantown. By contrast, just a few weeks later, General Horatio Gates shocked the world by defeating General Burgoyne at Saratoga on the Hudson River. With Gates’s star on the ascent, some wondered whether Washington was the right man to fill the role of Commander-in-Chief. Though no formal steps ever took place, by the end of 1777 there was a “whispering campaign” underway to have Washington removed —a movement that historian Joseph Ellis suggests was probably “simmering beneath the surface ever since the debacle at Fort Washington.”

One of the central figures in the matter was Brigadier General Thomas Conway, an ambitious Irishman who left the French Army to join the Continental Army, making the anti-Washington movement commonly referred to as the “Conway Cabal.” Conway actively lobbied Congress for a promotion that Washington virulently opposed in a letter to fellow Virginian and Congressman Richard Henry Lee. When Conway caught wind of this slight, he dashed off some pointed criticisms of Washington to Gates. Conway’s dislike for Washington attracted a loose “coterie of grumblers,” including Gates himself, Brigadier General Thomas Mifflin, General Charles Lee, and Congressional figures such as John Adams, Samuel Adams, Benjamin Rush, and Richard Henry Lee.

A gossip network through private correspondence might have remained the extent of the “coterie of grumblers'” influence, except that Washington, ever sensitive to the sanctity of his reputation, had his own network of loyal informants who had a keen ear for loose talk. Washington supporter General William Alexander reported that Gates’s aide General James Wilkinson, had drunkenly divulged the contents of anti-Washington correspondence between Conway and Gates, including this remark by Conway: “Heaven has been determined to save your Country; or a weak General and bad Counselors would have ruined it." When Washington penned a terse note to Gates, he openly challenged him by sending a copy of his correspondence to Congress. This skillful tactic deferred the matter to his civilian masters, while placing the matter in the public sphere, where direct criticism of Washington was still almost sacrilegious.

Washington survived the challenge to his leadership, and some of his most ardent supporters, such as Major General Nathanael Greene, the Marquis de Lafayette, and Alexander Hamilton, went on to distinguish themselves throughout the war. Washington’s two most prominent critics fared less well. Though Conway eventually got his promotion and subsequent assignment as Inspector General, Washington marginalized him when he reported for duty at Valley Forge. Later, a number of general officers petitioned Congress, protesting Conway’s promotion. Conway was further discredited after a fellow officer questioned his courage at Germantown. After challenging his accuser to a duel, Conway was shot in the mouth. Thinking he was dying, Conway wrote a letter of apology to General Washington, but he survived his wounds and eventually returned to France. Gates was never able to hold on to the stature he gained at Saratoga, and in 1780 found himself fleeing with his militia at the Battle of Camden, SC in 1780.

Although at times the 1787 Constitutional Convention became bogged down in details, the delegates generally debated the “big picture” of crafting a new fundamental document for the United States. Given that bias for the larger topics, it is not surprising the delegates did not discuss at any length the age requirement for serving as a member of the House of Representatives, in the Senate, or as the President. What concerned them was not the age of the individual, but the quality of the representation provided to the people by those individual federal representatives.

During the convention, on May 29, 1787, Edmund Randolph of Virginia proposed what is now known as the Virginia Plan, originally drafted by James Madison. The fourth resolution stated: “that the members of the branch of the national Legislature ought to be elected by the people of the several States every           for the term of           ; to be the age of           years at least . . .” Randolph and Madison left the specifics of elections and the ages of the members of the legislatures open for the convention to debate. Several weeks later, on June 22, the conversation in the convention turned to the issue of the election, length of service, and age of eligibility for members of the House. George Mason of Virginia rose and proposed 25 years of age as a qualification for the members of the first branch (House of Representatives). Mason’s motion passed seven states in favor, three opposed, and New York divided. Three days later, the convention took up Randolph’s resolution again, this time addressing the second branch (the Senate), and unanimously agreed to the clause requiring the age of members to be at least 30 years of age.

Since what most concerned the members of the convention were what Mason called “the danger of the majority oppressing the minority, and the mischievous influence of demagogues,” details such as the specific ages required to become representatives and senators did not rise to the level of major debate. Other issues were deemed far more important, such as how to elect the executive and the specific powers of the president, because of the controversial and dangerous nature of the proposed executive. The age requirements for president were included in the final recommendations that were agreed to by the Committee of Eleven (one member from every state). These required that the president be a “natural born citizen” at the time of the Constitution’s adoption, must have lived in the United States at least 14 years, and be no less than 35 years old.

Further evidence that the supporters of the proposed 1787 Constitution considered the issue of ages a detail can be found in the Federalist Papers. What concerned Publius (the pseudonym used by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay) was not the age of the representatives (mentioned only in passing in Federalist 51-54), but the timing and frequency of elections to maintain accountability to the people in the states. Biennial elections allowed representatives to reflect the changing moods of the electorate at home while providing institutional stability in the House.

The Federalist Papers also address requirements for office. In Federalist 62, Publius examines the constitutional requirement for becoming a senator. Again, it was not the age of the individual that mattered so much as the length of residency in the country and the individual’s level of maturity. The differing requirements for Senate (vs. House of Representatives), Publius wrote, “is explained by the nature of their senatorial trust; which requiring greater extent of information and stability of character, requires at the same time that the senator should have reached a period of life most likely to supply these advantages.” So too with the proposed presidency; Publius argues in Federalist 67-71 that the older age was needed because of the burden, trust, and perspectives needed in an executive.

Thus, while it would be wrong to say that the members of the Federal Convention assigned the ages haphazardly, it would also be wrong to say that they spent much time debating the virtues of 25, 30, and 35 years old to hold federal elected office. Rather, they followed the patterns already established in the states, and they increased the ages as the importance and burdens of federal office increased.