A happy political marriage, courtesy of John and Abigail

In the HBO miniseries "John Adams," Paul Giamatti's John urges Thomas Jefferson to write the Declaration of Independence. "I am obnoxious," he says, explaining why he won't perform the honor himself. It's a stark moment of self-awareness by Adams, one certainly bred and fostered by his wife, Abigail.

So much of "John Adams," adapted from David McCullough's Pulitzer Prize-winning biography, is the chronicle of a solid political marriage. We see Abigail, played by Laura Linney, working to keep her husband's formidable ego in check. She doesn't let his arrogance separate him from the rest of man - and woman - kind. Reading his defense of the Brits who fired in the Boston Massacre, she warns him not to come off as superior. "You have overburdened your argument with great ostentation," she tells him.

Abigail is completely onto John, one of the best gifts spouses can give to one another. And the miniseries shows John, with his wife's guidance, using his offices to forward his democratic ends, not his personal needs. With his arrogant scowls and his bristly impatience, he is fixated on creating a strong nation.

What a relief! Thank you, John and Abigail Adams and HBO, for providing TV viewers with a portrait of a real union that's not defined by cheating and remorse. Adultery, it seems, is a requisite for political marriage these days. Most notably, Eliot Spitzer was forced into a confession earlier this month, leading to speculation about the New York governor's self-destructive needs, his father issues, and his pathological hubris.

With the disclosure of infidelity by Spitzer's replacement, David A. Paterson, and with the reemergence of the 2004 McGreevey scandal amid tales of a threesome involving the former New Jersey governor, his wife, and an aide, the tri-state area seems to be leading the trend.

Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick is doing his part for the Motor City, too: After the discovery of romantic text messages, Kilpatrick was charged with perjury on Monday for denying an extramarital affair with a co-worker under oath. Meanwhile, Senators Larry Craig of Idaho and David Vitter of Louisiana haven't exactly shown themselves to be model husbands, either.

All this deceit recalls the classic reality-TV melodrama that unfolded late last month on Fox's lie-detector series "The Moment of Truth." A so-called ordinary woman from New Jersey named Lauren Cleri sat calmly before her sweet husband - oh, and millions of TV viewers, too - and confessed to adultery and passion for another man. She came clean for money, of course, although she ultimately lost her $100,000 on a later question.

Midway through its run, "John Adams" is a welcome reminder that even in public life, a true partnership can have great power. There's nothing turgid about the Adams's union, which stands in contrast to HBO's usual fictional roster, focusing lately on adultery ("In Treatment") and even polygamy ("Big Love").

When it comes to political marriages, of course, there's nothing like the ongoing saga of Bill and Hillary Clinton. But unlike the Adamses, shown to enjoy a genuine, successful, working relationship, the Clinton marriage continues to be like something straight out of reality TV, and not just because of the lasting impact of Bill Clinton's infamous fooling around. When Bill began to campaign so sloppily for Hillary in January, he raised the odd suspicion that he was trying to undermine her, consciously or subconsciously. Why was that speculation so inviting? They just don't make a particularly convincing team. Somehow, regardless of their individual strengths, the miniseries about their marriage seems to belong on Fox.

OK, so the Adamses were wed some 250 years ago, long before the days of media hyper-scrutiny, our Jerry Springer-ized culture, and Fox, the network that delights in defaming marriage with "Temptation Island" and "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?" Tawdriness had not yet become a ratings grab.

And of course "John Adams," produced by Tom Hanks, does some romanticizing around the edges, even while it emphasizes the physical hardships of the era, including gruesome images of pox-ridden cadavers. At times, the Adamses' mutual respect recalls the close bond - the close fictional bond - of Jed and Abbey Bartlet on "The West Wing." That's what happens when you turn history into a story.

Still, "John Adams" is a welcome sign at this juncture of how marriage and public life can truly work out. The strengths of the Adams marriage are recorded in their letters and in McCullough's biography. And here they are served up in lavish cinematic detail: John and Abigail arguing so productively, intimately bonding through intellectual pursuits, pushing each other toward self-honesty, united in spirit even while so often physically separated.

Their moments of truth are well worth savoring.

Matthew Gilbert can be reached at gilbert@globe.com. For more on TV, visit boston.com/ae/tv/blog/.