Of all the institutions of the British State, the one most acutely alert to the issue of devolved power is the one at the very apex.

Yes, the Monarchy gets it. From the outset, an apprehensive Palace has grasped the challenge which self-government poses to the structure of the Union and hence to the Crown.

A senior mandarin from the diplomatic service once suggested to me that the only other outfit which came close to such understanding was the Foreign and Commonwealth Office.

Why so, I blithely inquired. Because, apparently, they were well used to dealing with troublesome colonies. This, accompanied by a dry smile.

All this week the Royals have been resident in the Palace of Holyroodhouse.

All this week we have witnessed King Charles building upon the foundations laid by his mother. To acknowledge national sentiment in Scotland, to recognise Scottish history – but to place these factors firmly within the architecture of the Union.

Remember that, in advance of devolution, the late Queen occasionally signalled the Crown’s disquiet about sundry forms of Scottish self-government.

In 1977, with a Scottish Assembly pending, Her Majesty noted that she could never forget that she was crowned Queen of the United Kingdom, despite her Scottish ancestry.

In 2014, towards the close of the independence referendum campaign, the Queen was overheard saying that she hoped people would think very carefully.

At all times, however, in engaging with the Scottish Parliament and successive First Ministers, the Queen went out of her way to demonstrate her determination to serve and support the constitutional structure chosen by the people.

Ditto her son. Indeed, he has gone further. This entire Royal Week – including, especially, the service in St Giles’ Cathedral – has been designed to emphasise Scottish nationhood. Within the Union which he heads.

Arguably, from one perspective, the endeavour is commendable. It is said that the King personally influenced and supervised the diverse content of the St Giles’ event.

A Gaelic psalm, the Beatitudes translated into Middle Scots and a Scots Doric song of Thanksgiving, commissioned by the King himself. (Only a pedant would reflect that the demotic translation would have been banned at the time of its 16th century composition. Yes, I am that pedant.)

The contemporary aim was harmony. Yet, alongside that, there have also been evident strains, partly arising from history, partly arising from modern opinion.

History first. St Giles’ Cathedral. The High Kirk. Where the King’s predecessor, Charles I, sought to impose Anglican worship. In response, one Jenny Geddes threw a stool at the preacher, prompting a riot.

In the distant past. Yet this week the past came alive as the King was solemnly presented with the Honours of Scotland; the sceptre, a newly-forged sword and, most poignantly of all, the 16th century Scottish crown, remodelled for James V.

Sir Tom Devine, Scotland’s pre-eminent historian, has reminded us that the Honours are “very significant symbols of Scotland as a distinctive nation”. This was the case, he added, even within the regal and Parliamentary Unions.

Absolutely true. Yet the ceremony also reminded me of two other points.

Firstly, the Honours themselves reflect Scotland’s turbulent past and therefore perhaps also the current status of this somewhat restless nation.

They had to be hidden from the rapacious army of Oliver Cromwell. Then, after 1707, they were locked away in a chest in Edinburgh Castle, as if they posed a symbolic threat to the new Union.

They were rediscovered in 1818 by Sir Walter Scott – only a few years before he choreographed the grandiose visit to Scotland of King George IV, who was decked out in a kilt and pink tights.

Sir Walter’s objective was to highlight ancient Scottish nationhood but to anchor it in a modern Union context.

King Charles III pursued the same aim, although, thankfully, in a more modest outfit.

Secondly, this was not a coronation, although it came close. It was a Scottish service of thanksgiving, founded upon the formal ceremony which took place in Westminster Abbey in May.

The Stone of Destiny sat in St Giles’, billed as the “ancient symbol of Scottish sovereignty”. But that symbol had already played its UK role in May.

William McIlvanney meant it kindly when he billed Scotland as a “mongrel nation”. He was glorying in our disparity of origin and outlook. This week, we witnessed the confirmation of Scotland as a hybrid nation, within a larger State.

To be quite clear, many people in Scotland are quite content with that status, believing it provides our people with the best of both worlds.

Equally, though, there are many others who would welcome an end to the Union. Or to the monarchy. Or to both.

Did you catch Mhairi Black’s expression in the Commons when she was invited by Oliver Dowden, the Deputy Prime Minister, to rejoice at the Scottish service for King Charles? It was a striking cameo response, opening as a grimace before gently segueing into droll disdain.

Many will miss such contributions, including the spoken ones, when she steps down at the General Election.

But her views persist. Anti-monarchy demonstrators mingled with the Royal Mile crowds, yelling “not my King”. A republican rally was held outside Holyrood – Parliament that is, with the Palace across the road.

Patrick Harvie of the Greens addressed that gathering, a further reminder that not all supporters of independence accept the line that the aim is to repeal the 1707 Union, not yet the 1603 regal version.

Perhaps, however, for most people in Scotland, especially in these troubled days, the response to Royal Week will have been indifference. They may have glanced at the telly – but would they have seen it as significant to their lives? I doubt it.

Further, for all there was a People’s Procession, this was still substantially a day for pomp and pageant, for the Archers and aristocrats. Again, perhaps understandably, given the nature of the event. This was the Coronation revisited, for our hybrid nation.

Still, King Charles tried. He really tried. Offering stability, but alert to turmoil. Aware of Scotland’s long history. As the Kirk Moderator, the Rev Sally Foster-Fulton reminded us, we are a saga, not a short story.