The young man in a felt hat pointed toward the street: "There used to be three iron workshops in the San Giovanni District. Now, there isn't a single one left."
"Cheap iron goods from France keep coming into the city, taking away all their business! The craftsmen can only make a living polishing carriages for Nobles."
He paused, recalling his script, then waved his arm: "We must drive out the French! Only by banning them from selling goods here can we keep our meager bread!"
The agitated crowd nodded along: "That's right, it's all the damn French's fault!"
"Only those shops selling French goods are making any money."
"My father's sofa workshop went under too! Now the rich only buy those French industrial board sofas..."
