Cardus spent the Second World War years in Australia, where he wrote for The Sydney Morning Herald and gave regular radio talks.

Cardus's work was publicly recognised by his appointment as a Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE) in 1964 and the award of a knighthood in 1967, while the music and cricket worlds acknowledged him with numerous honours.

[7] In his autobiographical writings, Cardus refers to his home environment at Summer Place as "sordid ... unlettered and unbeautiful", yet enlivened by laughter: "Humour kept breezing in".

[20] The experience did not curb Neville's intellectual curiosity; at a very young age he was expanding his cultural horizons, through the worlds of reading and of music hall and pantomime.

[29] In due course he added philosophy and metaphysics to his curriculum; this began with his discovery of George Henry Lewes, which led him on to the works of Kant, Hume, Berkeley and, eventually, Schopenhauer.

[30] He supplemented these studies by attending free lectures at Manchester University,[31] and met regularly with a group of like-minded autodidacts at Alexandra Park or, in the winter, at the Lyons café in Albert Square, to discuss and debate for whole afternoons.

At first Cardus's schedule of self-improvement was random; eventually he compiled what he called a "cultural scheme" whereby he devoted a set weekly number of hours to different subjects.

He remembered hearing for the first time the melody of the "Vilja" song from Franz Lehár's operetta The Merry Widow, which "curled its way into my heart to stay there for a lifetime".

[49] In August 1914, in addition to his cricketing duties he became Alington's secretary, after the previous incumbent joined the army at the outbreak of war; Cardus was rejected for military service because of his poor eyesight.

[56][n 4] Cardus spent his winters in Manchester, studying hard in anticipation of any opportunity for an opening as a music critic, eking out his summer savings by taking temporary clerical work.

In the spring of 1919, while recovering from a serious pulmonary condition, Cardus took up a suggestion from his news editor, William Percival Crozier, that he should watch some cricket at Old Trafford and, if he felt able, write reports on a few matches.

[7][n 6] In August 1921 Cardus gained what he termed "the only scoop of my career", when he reported the unexpected victory by 28 runs of MacLaren's scratch side over the previously unbeaten Australian touring team.

Bradman was an exception; after his exploits in the England versus Australia Test series of 1930 Cardus described the Australian as "an incredible exponent who in himself sums up all the skill and experience that have gone before him ... he has kindled grand bonfires of batsmanship for us".

On 1 September, the day that Germany invaded Poland, Cardus observed the removal of the bust of W. G. Grace from the Lord's pavilion; he was informed by a bystander: "That means war".

[102] Cardus championed Delius against the consensus of his fellow-critics: "His music looks back on days intensely lived through; it knows the pathos of mortal things doomed to fade and vanish".

[103] At the 1929 Delius Festival in London, Cardus briefly met the composer, who thought he looked too young to be The Manchester Guardian's music critic, and counselled him: "Don't read yourself daft.

[129] After his wife announced her intention of sailing from England in 1941 to join him,[130] Cardus declined to move to a larger flat to accommodate them both, and rented a separate establishment for her a mile away.

He also found an undamaged Lord's, and enjoyed a season of magnificent cricket, marked by the batting exploits of the Middlesex pair, Denis Compton and Bill Edrich.

[137] Another factor that brought Cardus to England in 1948 was the prospect of succeeding Newman, whose retirement as chief music critic of The Sunday Times was assumed to be imminent.

[145] Outside London, Cardus was a regular visitor to the Edinburgh Festival and to Glyndebourne,[140] and was in Manchester for the reopening of the Free Trade Hall and the "homecoming" of the Hallé Orchestra in November 1951.

These included "survey" pieces, which often reflected his personal enthusiasms; a regular subject was the music of Gustav Mahler, who in the early 1950s was by no means a popular composer with British audiences.

[154] In 1959, still in harness, Newman died at the age of 90; Cardus considered him the most outstanding of all music critics, and thought he should have been appointed a Companion of Honour (CH), or even to the Order of Merit.

Cardus had for some years noted a decline in his old friend's powers,[156] though he had written in 1954, on the occasion of Beecham's 75th birthday, of the debt the music world owed to the conductor: "He led us out of the Teutonic captivity.

[n 10] To an extent the departed idols were replaced with new heroes: in music, Herbert von Karajan, Otto Klemperer, Clifford Curzon and Claudio Arrau;[159] in cricket, Keith Miller and Garfield Sobers.

In a letter to his friend Marjorie Robinson he described the investiture at Buckingham Palace, remarking that the Queen "might have been any nice shy young lady in D.H. Evans or Kendal Milnes".

[142] Howat describes his appearance in these years as not having changed much from his younger days: "... the lean, ascetic figure of moderate height, with sharp features, sleek hair, and strong glasses".

Flora Robson and Wendy Hiller gave readings, and Clifford Curzon, with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, played the second movement of Mozart's Piano Concerto No.

[170] The eulogy was given by the cricket writer and historian Alan Gibson, who took as his text verses from Blake's Auguries of Innocence:[171] Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine; Under every grief and pine Runs a thread of silken twine.

[8] Aside from formal institutional recognition, Cardus was highly regarded by prominent individual cricketers and musicians, as indicated by the "tribute book" he received at his 70th birthday celebration lunch.

These included Hilda "Barbe" Ede, with whom he shared a passionate affair in the 1930s before her sudden death in 1937;[183] Cardus referred to her as "Milady", and devoted a chapter of Full Score to her.