Upon true and upon malignant criticism there is an excellent fable by the Spaniard Iriarte.

The viper says to the leech, "Why do people invite your bite, and flee from mine ?" "Because," says the leech, "people receive health from my bite, and poison from yours." "There is as much difference," says the clever Spaniard, "between true and malignant criticism, as between poison and medicine." Certainly a great many meritorious writers have allowed themselves to be poisoned by malignant criticism; the writer, however, is not one of those who allow themselves to be poisoned by pseudo-critics; no! no! he will rather hold them up by their tails, and show the creatures wriggling, blood and foam streaming from their broken jaws.
First of all, however, he will notice one of their objections.

"The book isn't true," say they.

Now one of the principal reasons with those that have attacked Lavengro for their abuse of it is, that it is particularly true in one instance, namely, that it exposes their own nonsense, their love of humbug, their slavishness, their dressings, their goings out, their scraping and bowing to great people; it is the showing up of "gentility nonsense" in Lavengro that has been one principal reason for the raising of the above cry; for in Lavengro is denounced the besetting folly of the English people, a folly which those who call themselves guardians of the public taste are far from being above.

"We can't abide anything that isn't true!" they exclaim.