'Very intelligent': Former royal butler Grant Harrold reveals the most intelligent royals... and where he thinks King Charles III ranks in the family
Harrold, 47, who served in the Royal Household between 2004 and 2011, has named the three royals he considers to be the most intelligent, based on his years of experience working at Highgrove House.
Harrold was a trusted member of staff for King Charles III and Queen Camilla and also regularly assisted the Prince and Princess of Wales and the Duke of Sussex.
On occasion, he even had the honour of serving the late Queen Elizabeth II and the late Prince Philip.
In a recent interview with online learning platform Study Platform, Harrold revealed: "The smartest in my mind would have been Queen Elizabeth II."
"The reason I say that is not just intelligence; she was witty, ruled a country for over 70 years, and knew about sports," he told the outlet, per Express UK.
Coming in just behind the late monarch, Harrold placed the Queen's eldest son, King Charles III.
"Right behind her, I would say the King because he speaks several languages, but he is also very intelligent with numbers, and his command of the English language is extraordinary," Harrold explained.
"He's super intelligent, so if you're talking about the royals now, he'd be top of that pile without any question."
Rounding out his top three was Princess Anne, whom Harrold described as "a knowledgeable lady".
Asked whether it would be seen as a negative if younger royals chose not to pursue university, Harrold said attitudes had shifted.
"I don't think it would (be frowned upon) these days," he said.
"We may find that George, Charlotte, and Louis might not all go to university. They may go straight to somewhere like Sandhurst."
For Prince George, who turns 12 on Tuesday, Harrold said some form of military training is almost certain.
"You can guarantee that George, whether he likes it or not, will have to go through that military training," he said.
"Both William and Charles had military training. You're the commanding chief of the Armed Forces, so you've got to know the profession.
"However, there might not be so much pressure when it comes to George; only time will tell."
In the same interview, Harrold also weighed in on the future schooling of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's children, Archie and Lilibet, who are being raised in Montecito, California.
He said it was "very likely and completely possible" that Harry might want his children to experience British schooling.
"If they have their younger education in America, I'm sure their father will be quite keen to have a bit of a British education," he said.
"But then it depends on how the relationship is with the rest of the family when the time comes."
When it comes to royal education, the standards have always been high.
King Charles began his schooling at Hill House at age eight, before moving on to Cheam School and later Gordonstoun, where he passed six O-levels.
He went on to study archaeology, anthropology and history at Cambridge University, graduating in 1970 with a 2:2, the first British royal heir to earn a university degree.
Princess Anne, meanwhile, was educated at Benenden School, leaving with six O-levels and three A-levels.
Famously, she insisted on being treated like any other student, making her own bed, doing chores and waiting on tables.
Princes William and Harry both attended London nurseries before going on to Eton College.
William later studied at St Andrews University, where he famously met his future wife, Princess Catherine.
His cousin, Lady Louise Windsor, daughter of Prince Edward and Duchess Sophie, enrolled at the same university in 2022.
Interestingly, the royal Harrold deemed the smartest, the late Queen Elizabeth II, was educated entirely at home and even during World War II.
She and her younger sister, the late Princess Margaret, were taught by their governess Marion 'Crawfie' Crawford.
According to the official Royal Family website, when Elizabeth became heir presumptive in 1936, her education shifted to include constitutional law and history, with guidance from her father and Eton's Vice-Provost, Henry Marten.
She also received religious instruction from the Archbishop of Canterbury and studied French with native-speaking governesses.
The late Queen also excelled in sport and the arts, becoming a strong swimmer, horse rider, and musician.
At just 13, she won the Children's Challenge Shield at London's Bath Club, and during the war years, she took home first prize at the Royal Windsor Horse Show in 1944.
Of course, beyond her academic grounding and sporting achievements, the late Queen was renowned for her quick wit and dry sense of humour.
In a previous interview on 6 September 2022- just two days before Queen Elizabeth died at age 96- Harrold reflected on "the wonderful kind of way" Her Majesty carried herself, as well as her
"wicked sense of humour" in an interview with Slingo.
"She wasn't very regal or royal... I felt really relaxed around her," he said.

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When he arrived in Japan, the young sailor had stood on a bridge near the Hiroshima 'epicentre' dome, barely two kilometres from Yahata's house. 'When I was on that bridge, we were so far apart yet so close,' Plewright tells Yahata in front of an emotional crowd. 'And now we are here, friend to friend. It's absolutely magnificent.' Despite their ages, both are activists in the global campaign to stop the proliferation of nuclear weapons. They say the world will only be a safer place when every nation – including a recalcitrant Australia – signs up to the UN Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, which was adopted in 2017. This week's 80th anniversary is special to them; by the time of the next commemoration, and certainly by the 90th anniversary, the Japanese hibakusha and the Australian ex-serviceman may no longer be able to bear witness. Black rain 'This is a map of Hiroshima at the time of the atomic bombing,' Yahata tells the exhibition crowd, her head peeking above the dais. 'Somewhere between the railway station and the river was our house. It was summer: the cherry blossom was in full bloom in the school grounds, the petals creating a pink-peach-coloured carpet.' You strain to listen to her accented English, yet the poignancy strikes deep: her words convey a child's perception of beauty in a once-safe world. The Pacific War had been going for nearly four years with intense fighting and terrible losses on both sides. To bring war to an end and Japan to its knees, it was deemed by the Allies that a new weapon of destruction should be unleashed on Japan, even on child citizens like Teruko Yahata. On August 6, 1945, an American B-29 aircraft dropped 'Little Boy' – a 15-kiloton atomic bomb – which exploded over the city of Hiroshima, killing tens of thousands of civilians and children. 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My mother began to pull bedding and futons from the cupboards, and as she did so I noticed fragments of glass sticking out of her back and her white blouse was stained a bloody red. 'We felt sure there would be a second and perhaps a third bomb. So we believed we were beyond saving. As my mother spread a quilt over us all, I remember – and indeed will never forget – what it felt like as a child to be surrounded by my family in the warmth and security of that blanket.' Yahata remembers the eerie silence outside, the blackened houses nearby and huge drops of rain 'that soaked us to the skin'. Nobody knew at the time that it was radioactive 'black rain'. Then came 'a legion of ghosts, crippled figures of death and hundreds of bodies covered in dust; their skin was peeling off their arms and dangling from their fingertips, resembling old tattered rags.' Seeking first aid at her primary school three days later, Yahata encountered classrooms strewn with tightly packed bodies. 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The adventure was not all grim; he took photos of quaint streets and a fish market and drank Japanese Kirin beer with his shipmates. The invisible but deadly legacy of radiation exposure would only be understood much later. Plewright went on to become a direct witness to, and victim of, nuclear weapon explosions on his home soil. In October 1952, Britain's first atmospheric nuclear test bomb was detonated at the Montebello Islands, which lie 120 kilometres off the north-west coast of Western Australia. That first test, named Operation Hurricane, produced a mushroom cloud three kilometres high and covered the islands and northern parts of the Australian mainland with radioactive fallout. Two more nuclear tests, G1 and G2, were detonated on two Montebello islands in 1956; the final test, G2, was the largest nuclear explosion ever conducted in Australia, six times more powerful than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Able Seaman Plewright, by then 22, was on HMAS Shoalhaven the day of the first blast. His ship was conducting safety and security patrols out of visual range of the explosion, but Shoalhaven later travelled along an inshore route to rejoin the fleet and likely passed under the upper portion of a radioactive cloud seen drifting towards the mainland. 'I recall that we saw the fallout cloud, which drifted directly over the ship,' Plewright says. Yet the 1984 McClelland Royal Commission into British nuclear tests in Australia rejected such claims, saying the ship was too far from the blast to be contaminated. Author Paul Grace has written a detailed account of the Montebello tests, titled: Operation Hurricane: The story of Britain's First Atomic Test in Australia and the Legacy that Remain s. Grace says he was prompted by his own grandfather's experience that exactly paralleled Plewright's – he served in Japan and on the Montebello Islands. 'Bill Plewright was certainly exposed on many more occasions, returning to the Montebello Islands for a radiation survey in November 1953 and two more atomic tests in 1956,' Grace says. The first 1956 test, G1, was detonated on Trimouille Island, part of the Montebello archipelago. 'We were not allowed to talk to anyone about what was going to take place,' says Plewright. 'And when it got very close to minus 10 countdown, we were told to turn away from the blast, close our eyes, put our hands over our eyes, and then the countdown started. It hit zero.' The split second of the blast is still etched in his memory. 'In that instant, we all saw the x-ray of the bones in our hands, so bright was the initial blast. We were told to stand by for perhaps a tidal wave. There was a ripple and the ship rocked a little, but our breaths were taken away from us when this huge [cloud] thing sucked up the oxygen for miles out. And it was a very frightening thing.' Plewright went back north in the aftermath of G2 to salvage equipment. 'There were very strict rules about what you could do and couldn't do, but I didn't understand when I went ashore. The whole area around where the bomb had gone off was glazed glass. And as you took a step, your foot sank through it.' Loading Plewright retired from the Australian navy in 1957 and is grateful to have survived into old age. But cancer, a stroke and other illnesses have dogged him; many of his navy mates did not survive beyond late middle age. Some suffered similar problems to Japanese survivors of the radiation blast; many believed their military exposure was the cause. So did Plewright, who would later become president of the Australian Ex-Services Atomic Survivors Association. 'After I got out of the navy, I had a little grain of sand that I felt in my neck and I would be scratching it until I was told to go and see a doctor. I put it off, but after a couple of years it was the size of a lemon. I wore a 14.5-inch neck shirt but with the growth I had to wear a 17-inch neck and my tie always disappeared to one side. So I went in and had surgery for a malignant growth. 'In a report that I had to give to the government [for recognition of the radiation injury], I told them about this. The remarks were that I did not seek medical attention because I was scared. I then suffered a heart attack and a stroke. Some years later, I had cancer of the bladder, and I'm happy to say that my oncologist, neurologist and my own GP got me through it. I've been seven years in remission. 'When William Penney, the father of the British bomb, came to Australia, he told the Australian Commonwealth that there was no danger to human or animal life. So much for, 'Nothing will happen to you.' 'I took our people through the royal commission and I battled with our government and the Department of Veterans' Affairs. They were covering up – we were guinea pigs, there is no doubt about it.' Plewright reached out to a worldwide organisation called Labrats, which operates out of the UK and represents the 22,000 Commonwealth servicemen who worked on nuclear tests in Australia and the Pacific. Plewright is now one of its oldest members. 'A lot of us had tests taken of blood and urine at the time, which the British government denied ever existed,' Plewright says. 'We had so much evidence that the test results did exist, that they were given 21 days by the High Court in London to produce it. Twenty-four hours later they were produced.' The UK government has not yet compensated its nuclear test veterans, although in 2022 then-prime minister Rishi Sunak awarded a service medal to all veterans who served at Britain's nuclear tests, including Australians at Montebello Islands, Emu Field and Maralinga. Says Paul Grace, 'I'm pleased they made the medal available to Commonwealth veterans, both surviving and the next of kin of the deceased. It's a shame it took as long as it did.' The legacy of the nuclear tests has recently been exposed by samples gathered by Edith Cowan University scientists and the Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation. Marine-sediment samples from several of the Montebello Islands sent to the Australian Radiation Protection and Nuclear Safety Agency, the chief regulator for historic nuclear testing sites, have revealed plutonium levels up to 4500 times higher than samples taken 1000 kilometres away on the West Australian coast. The findings were published in June this year in the Marine Pollution Bulletin. Last month, Grace led an expedition of historians and servicemen relatives to the Montebello Islands 'to explore the human impact' of nuclear testing. 'For us, it was a personal pilgrimage to understand the experiences of our forebears. Three of us are descendants of Montebello nuclear veterans, including me and Maxine Goodwin, the daughter of RAAF leading airman Max Ward, who died at 49 of blood cancer.' Plewright remains bitter about the protracted delay in heeding Australia's nuclear victims. 'I think of all the lies that I received from the Australian government and the royal commission, which did not act properly or ask our members relevant questions. Nothing was done, only millions of dollars spent to make them look good.' Suicide bombs As the Hiroshima exhibition event draws to a close, Yahata and Plewright are sitting in a corner, laughing and giggling with their interpreter as they share confidences. Soon Yahata will board a plane back to Japan, before departing again for another 80th anniversary event in the US. Yahata's visit was partly hosted by the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), which originated in Melbourne and was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2017. 'Everything is jeopardised by these global suicide bombs,' says ICAN co-founder Tilman Ruff, a Melbourne-based, public-health physician who attended the exhibition. 'To think of Hiroshima's rivers being full of blackened bodies, of people who survived calling for water, of fragments of people's cups, clothes and bedding.' When he gives his speech, Ruff stands in front of a 12-metre-high nuclear missile prop: 'It's inflatable and, surprisingly, it fits into one suitcase.' Ruff has visited Japan and Hiroshima many times and spoken widely with anti-nuclear organisations on the health dangers of radiation, including that of the 2011 Fukushima nuclear reactor disaster. On one trip to Hiroshima, Ruff says he was drawn to a huge camphor tree, one of several trees obliterated by the blast, but whose roots miraculously survived and resprouted. 'I was told this tree was planted 500 years ago,' he says. 'It regrew against all expectations – it's still sprouting forth in every direction, and I was moved to see that beneath its boughs is a kindergarten. 'Yet arsenals are being expanded, and multiple nuclear-armed nations are in open conflict. The overall picture of disarmament is bleak. It's stalled and going backwards.' Ruff says Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has a perfect opportunity to lead the way in signing and ratifying the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. 'This is the year if Albo is serious,' says Ruff. 'He was the major champion at the 2018 Labor conference when he put forward a resolution that if Labor got into government, he would sign and ratify the treaty. He's been returned by a massive political majority, so will Australia find the courage to act?' Loading Meanwhile, Ruff says, ICAN has a proud record of giving voice to witnesses who can describe exactly what nuclear weapons inflict on human beings – witnesses such as Yahata, Plewright and, importantly, Aboriginal survivors of nuclear testing in their homelands. 'The testimonies are more relevant today than they have ever been,' Ruff says. 'When they speak, you can hear a pin drop.' 'Who do you love? What do you love?' says Yahata at the end of her speech, carefully stressing each English word as she scans the crowd. 'If a single nuclear weapon was used now, mankind would cease to exist,' she tells them. 'All that I have left to do is to communicate the truth of the atomic bomb to the world, and to continue to sound the alarm bells.' She bows deeply. 'Thank you very much for listening.'