The joint
The picture is ordinary and exact. You think of the perfect answer on the stairs, when the room is already behind you. French packed the picture into a noun phrase. Diderot, in Paradoxe sur le comédien, describes finding his wits again only at the bottom of the stairs. He does not say l’esprit de l’escalier. The set phrase comes later. Dictionaries and essays often hand it to him anyway. That attribution is a small untranslatability of its own: a story that travels better than the wording.
English “spirit of the staircase” looks faithful and means a haunting. Esprit here is wit. “Staircase wit” is the repair, and it has never quite become the thing English speakers say. They say the French, which is a kind of carrying, by loan, and a confession that the calque did not take.
German did take, as Treppenwitz. Then the word walked off. Hertslet’s 1882 book, Der Treppenwitz der Weltgeschichte, used it for the belated joke of history, the anecdote that is too neat and too late. Today a Treppenwitz is often an irony or an absurdity, not a remark you failed to make at dinner. A French speaker and a German speaker can use sister-words and not mean the same event.
Why this break matters to a reader
A reader who meets “spirit of the staircase” in a novel has been shown a ghost. A reader who meets Treppenwitz in a newspaper has been shown an irony of events. A reader who meets the French has been shown their own late reply. The three are related by history. They are not interchangeable in a sentence. Using one for the other changes who is late: the guest, the translator, or history.