Newton was born at "Cockey Farm" near Abney. He was a carpenter's son and after attending a dame's school, worked at that trade. He soon showed mechanical skill in constructing spinning-wheels, and was apprenticed for seven years as machinery carpenter in a mill in Monsal Dale. Due to his own interest he purchased books, chiefly poetry, and his own efforts in verse were soon noticed by Peter Cunningham, who was curate to Thomas Seward at Eyam. In the summer of 1783 Newton was introduced to Anna Seward, who corresponded with him until her death.

Seward showed his verses to William Hayley and other literary friends, who formeda high estimate of them. Beyond a sonnet to Miss Seward , verses to Peter Cunningham, and others in a Sheffield newspaper, few seemed to have survived. Sonnets were addressed to Newton by Peter Cunningham, by Miss Seward, and by one Lister; while Miss Seward also wrote a published letter.

Miss Seward finally helped him to become part-owner of a cotton mill in Cressbrook Dale, and he became wealthy. Newton built a school and a row of cottages near Cressborrok mill for his workers. He died on 3 Nov. 1830 at Tideswell, Derbyshire, and is buried in St John the Baptist's churchyard. He left 2,000 pounds to the church in Egginton. Newton had marriedearly in life Helen Cook (b. 1753), by whom he had several children. His wife Helen died only eight days after her husband. His eldest son, William (1785-1851), supplied Tideswell with good water at his own expense.

In 1834, the practice of gibbetting was abolished in Derbyshire and a poem by Newton was given much of the credit. The poem was about "The supposed soliloquy of a Father under the Gibbet of his son, upon one of the Peak Mountains near Wardlow."

‘Art thou, my son, suspended here on high,Ah! What a sight to meet a father’s eye!To see what I prized most, what most I loved,What most I cherished - and once approved,Hung in mid air to feed the nauseous worm,And waving horrid in the midnight storm.

If crime demand it, let the offender die,But let no more the Gibbet brave the sky;No more let vengeance on the dead be hurl’d,But hide the victim from a gazing world,’