The Last Execution for Blasphemy: How Scotland Killed a Student for Reading Books

On January 8, 1697, Edinburgh executed a 20-year-old student for the crime of thinking too much.

Thomas Aikenhead walked two miles from the Tolbooth Prison to the gallows near Pilrig, carrying a Bible. Hours earlier, he had written to his friends defending his "insatiable inclination to the truth." The Church of Scotland's General Assembly had demanded his death to set an example. Five of his fellow students testified against him.

He died for reading philosophy books and sharing his thoughts with friends.

The Crime of Intellectual Curiosity

Aikenhead lost his father in 1683 and his mother in 1685, leaving him orphaned at nine years old. His father had been an apothecary, his mother the daughter of a clergyman. By age 16, he enrolled at Edinburgh University in 1693. The university library contained works by Descartes, Spinoza, and Thomas Hobbes—philosophers labeled "atheists" at the time. Aikenhead read them all. He was seeking knowledge in a society that considered curiosity a crime. Edinburgh in the 1690s was experiencing what historians call the "Ill Years"—the low point of the Little Ice Age. Natural disasters, fires, and famines created an atmosphere of fear. Presbyterian ministers interpreted these calamities as divine judgment, seeking someone to blame for bringing disasters upon Scotland. Aikenhead became their scapegoat.

The betrayal came from inside his circle. Five fellow students testified against Aikenhead at his trial on December 23, 1696: Adam Mitchell, John Neilsome, Patrick Midletourne, John Potter, and Mungo Craig. One of them—likely Craig—had been secretly keeping notes on Aikenhead's conversations and reported him to authorities. Craig even published a tract while Aikenhead sat in prison, titled "A SATYR against Atheistical-Deism," describing his friend's "Damnable Apostacy." The conversations happened in Edinburgh's coffee houses and student gathering places, where young men debated philosophy and theology. What should have been safe intellectual exploration became evidence for prosecution. In August 1696, Aikenhead walked past the recently built Tron Kirk with friends. Commenting on Edinburgh's infamous cold weather, he remarked that he "wished he were in Hell, where at least it would be a little bit warmer." That joke became one of the charges used against him.

The Trial and Execution

Aikenhead couldn't afford legal representation. The 20-year-old student defended himself at trial against Sir James Stewart, the Lord Advocate for Scotland—described as "an intimidating figure at the bench" and "a public celebrity during his own lifetime." No counsel appeared for Aikenhead. No record survives of the defense he presented. Stewart later admitted that if Aikenhead had been appointed defense counsel, they could have argued his words were "rash words in the heat of controversy" rather than obstinate blasphemy. That defense might have prevented his execution entirely. The 1695 Blasphemy Act specified graduated penalties: imprisonment and sackcloth for the first offense, a fine for the second, death only for the third. Aikenhead was sentenced to death on Christmas Eve 1696 for his first offense. Stewart demanded the death penalty specifically "to set an example to others" and create terror among potential blasphemers. The Church of Scotland's General Assembly, meeting in Edinburgh at the time, urged "vigorous execution" to curb "the abounding of impiety and profanity in this land." The decision was made. The example would be set.

On the morning of his execution, Aikenhead wrote his final letter. "It is a principle innate and co-natural to every man to have an insatiable inclination to the truth, and to seek for it as for hid treasure," he wrote to his friends. He may have read this statement at the Tolbooth Prison before walking under guard to his death. He died with a Bible in hand, reportedly "with all the Marks of a true Penitent." Yet his words echo modern defenses of free speech and intellectual freedom. He defended his right to pursue knowledge, to question, to think critically about the world around him. Scotland killed him for it anyway.

Legacy and the Coming Enlightenment

Just 15 years after Aikenhead's execution, philosopher David Hume was born on Edinburgh's Royal Mile. Hume would become known as "the Great Infidel" for his religious skepticism. He would question religious orthodoxy openly and build a career on philosophical inquiry that challenged traditional beliefs. The same city that executed Aikenhead would later celebrate Hume as one of the Scottish Enlightenment's greatest minds. Historian Robert Louis Stevenson called Aikenhead's execution "hanged for a piece of boyish incredulity." The case represents what scholars describe as "a milestone on Scotland's dark road to the Enlightenment"—the last gasp of severe religious persecution before Edinburgh transformed into a center of intellectual and scientific inquiry. Within a generation, questioning religious orthodoxy would fuel careers rather than end lives.

Aikenhead's execution demonstrates how societies under stress seek scapegoats. Scotland in the 1690s faced environmental disasters, economic hardship, and threats of French invasion. Religious and political leaders needed someone to blame for divine wrath. A young student who read philosophy books and shared his thoughts became the perfect target. The case also reveals how intellectual curiosity becomes dangerous when combined with political fear and religious authority. Aikenhead wasn't organizing a movement or publishing pamphlets. He was talking with friends about books he had read in his university library. That was enough to kill him. The betrayal by his fellow students shows how fear creates informants. When authorities demand examples and punishment, people turn on each other. Friends become witnesses. Conversations become evidence. Trust dissolves.

Aikenhead's execution marked the last time Britain executed someone for blasphemy. The case became infamous even in its own time. Critics pointed out the injustice of executing a first-time offender when the law specified graduated penalties. Others noted the absurdity of killing someone for weather jokes and philosophical discussions. The execution didn't stop the spread of Enlightenment ideas. If anything, it demonstrated the weakness of using violence to suppress intellectual inquiry. You can execute one student, but you can't execute curiosity itself. Within decades, the same questions Aikenhead raised would be discussed openly in Edinburgh's salons and universities. The city that killed him for reading Spinoza would later produce Adam Smith, David Hume, and other philosophers who questioned traditional authority and reshaped Western thought.

Aikenhead's case reminds us that intellectual freedom wasn't always assumed or protected. The right to read controversial books, to question religious authority, to discuss ideas with friends—these freedoms came at a cost. People died for them. Students were executed for pursuing knowledge. The story also demonstrates how quickly societies can turn against free thought when fear and authority combine. Edinburgh was a university city with a respected library and educated population. Yet it still executed a student for blasphemy. Fear makes people dangerous. Authority without accountability becomes tyranny. The combination kills curiosity. Today, we take for granted the ability to read philosophy, question religious claims, and discuss controversial ideas. Aikenhead's execution shows how recently those freedoms were won—and how easily they can be lost. His final letter defending his "insatiable inclination to the truth" stands as a testament to the human drive for knowledge. Even facing death, he defended his right to seek understanding. That drive for truth—that refusal to accept easy answers—ultimately proved stronger than the fear that killed him. The Scottish Enlightenment followed. Free inquiry survived. But it cost Thomas Aikenhead his life.