I am sorry about the enormous price of these trivia, one ounce of Ninzin root, and not even the best, has been sold for forty Dutch guilders. I would barely buy them for a trifle. That is how silly they are.[1] 

‘China root’ or ginger, from An Embassy for the East India Company, Johan Nieuhoff, 1669, p. 213.

Apparently Bassand, Boerhaave’s friend, had asked him to buy some Ninzin root for him, but Boerhaave thought this was ridiculously priced: indeed, 40 Dutch guilders in 1718 would be about € 437.23 today![2] However, it seems Bassand was determined to get himself some of the stuff, as over four years later Boerhaave wrote to Bassand:

In all of Holland only one spice trader has the real Ninzi root, but this greedy scoundrel does not even want to give half an ounce, before he has been paid 27 guilders: so the rich are sent away empty handed. I, however, do not appreciate it more than the roots of sweet fennel, which it resembles.[3]  

In the subsequent letter, almost six months later, it turns out Bassand has sent Boerhaave 27 guilders through a mutual acquaintance, and Boerhaave has sent him half an ounce of Ninzi root in return.[4] It is not until 1728 that Boerhaave writes more about the Ninzi root and why he thinks so little of it, but when he does, it is clarifying:

The root of the Chinese Nin-Zeng or Ginzeng, or Japanese Nisi is the most important thing used by the rich for afflictions of the heart, and for afflictions of pre-hysterical and pre-epileptic nature; in Asia, China, Japan and Tartary it is so highly esteemed, that its users are promised a long, fertile, and healthy life. I have tried it with several patients. And what is true of it? Idle chatter, no more. To me, its smell, taste, nature and power appear to be very similar to that of the root of the common fennel. For an ounce of real radix, 25 to 30 Dutch guilders are paid. Princes are given half a drachm, as an infusion with water, wine, or some similar fluid. The price is a recommendation. Things that are sold for high prices are more effective, and so the rich are sent away empty-handed.[5] 

By now, it is clear that what Boerhaave was writing about was ginseng root, indigenous to parts of North America and Asia. However, ginseng did not grow in the East Indies, but mainly in China and Japan. Although the Netherlands did have trading posts there in the first decades of the eighteenth century, Chinese and Japanese officials strictly controlled the trade, whereas in the East Indies the Dutch grew spices themselves. Hence the outrageous prices and the tinge of exotic exclusiveness of ginseng in early eighteenth-century Europe.

Although ginseng is now much cheaper and widely available, we still like to think it has special qualities. One of the biggest Dutch tea brands today sells a range of teas labelled ‘herbal goodness.’ The bags of green tea with ginseng and guarana are marketed claiming that ginseng enhances concentration: ‘Discover the power of ginseng!’ Well, for the current price it won’t hurt to try, although it might be an acquired taste.